BLANCHE 
UPRIGHT 


THE  LOSING  GAIN 


THE  LOSING  GAIN 


BY 


BLANCHE  UPRIGHT 

AUTHOR  OF 

"THE  VALLEY  OF  CONTENT" 


NEW  YORK 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1932,  BY 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


Printed  «n  the  United  State*  of  America 


TO 

THE  LOVING  MEMORY  OF 

3.  $.  a. 

I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK 


2138539 


THE  LOSING  GAIN 


CHAPTER  I 

MISS  AMANDA  PERKINS  folded  up  her 
voluminous  notes  and  placed  them  with  her 
pencil   in   the   black   satin   bag   she   always 
carried  on  her  arm  and  which  all  San  Leandro  had 
come  to  know  as  her  bad£e  of  trade.     She  sighed  a 
bit  as  she  turned  to  old  Mrs.  Howard  who  sat  next 
to   her  in  one  of  the  vantage  pews   in  the  First 
Christian  Church. 

"Beautiful,  wasn't  it?"  she  queried,  her  eyes 
following  the  newly  made  bride  as  she  disappeared 
through  the  doorway, — Evelyn  Craig  that  was  but 
a  few  moments  before, — Evelyn  Grant  now  by 
virtue  of  the  few  sonorous  words  that  had  been  pro- 
nounced over  her  by  the  reverend  gentleman  in  the 
black  frock  coat  who  still  stood  in  the  chancel, 
smiling  benignantly. 

Old  Mrs.  Howard  grinned. 

"Wasn't  it?"  she  agreed,  then  added:  "Wonder 
how  it  ever  came  about?" 

"It  was  a  beautiful  romance,  I  understand,"  en- 
thused Miss  Perkins  who,  having  been  society 
editor  of  the  San  Leandro  Daily  News  for  a  length 
of  time  that  passed  the  knowledge  of  those  whose 
birthdays  did  not  reach  the  count  of  those  of  Mrs. 
Howard's,  could  reasonably  be  expected  to  be  an 


2  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

authority  on  romance.  "Though  I'm  not  saying," 
she  added  quickly,  "Evelyn  Craig's  chances  were 
ever  supposed  to  be  the  best  before  James  Grant 
walked  into  her  life " 

Old  Mrs.  Howard's  grin  broadened  as  her  keen 
old  eyes  wandered  about  the  flower-decked  church. 
"Wouldn't,"  she  asked  meaningly,  "wouldn't  'sidled' 
be  the  word  you're  meaning?" 

Looking  back  afterward,  considering  the  romance 
of  Evelyn  and  James  in  all  its  aspects,  Miss  Perkins 
was  forced  to  admit  that  perhaps  old  Mrs.  Howard 
had  rightly  earned  her  reputation  of  being  a  keen 
observer.  For  not  even  to  those  who  liked  him 
best, — and  James  Grant  was  the  kind  of  man  whom 
everybody  liked  because  there  was  so  lacking  in  him 
any  of  that  aggressiveness  that  makes  enemies, — he 
never  seemed  to  be  walking  straightforwardly 
through  life.  Sidled  was  a  good  way  to  express  his 
course,  thought  Miss  Perkins,  and  there  were 
others  who  agreed.  Rather  apologetic  toward  the 
world  through  which  he  walked,  in  fact. 

Which  is  reason  enough  for  wonder  as  to  how 
James  Grant  and  Evelyn  Craig  had  ever  reached  the 
point  of  marriage,  or  that  beautiful  church  ceremony 
over  which  the  society  editor  raved  for  a  good  half 
column  the  day  after  the  wedding. 

Theirs  was,  in  fact,  one  of  those  marriages  which 
just  happen.  Slow,  plodding,  good-tempered,  shy 
James  Grant  was  the  sort  of  man  who  is  always  re- 
garded as  "steady,"  in  that  meaning  of  the  word  that 
indicated  he  could  be  depended  on  to  bring  home  his 
pay  envelope  on  Saturday  nights, — an  envelope  un- 
opened, to  be  handed  to  the  lady  whom  he  chose  to 
share  his  life  and  pay  check.  That  reputation  of 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  5 

steadiness  met  with  the  greatest  approval  from  the 
Craig  family  when  they  "talked  it  over,"  a  habit 
which  with  them  amounted  to  a  ceremony. 

"Evelyn's  fine  young  man,"  was  the  encomium 
with  which  everybody,  from  old  Samuel  himself,  old 
far  beyond  the  years  he  might  have  been  expected  to 
live,  down  to  the  smallest  Craig,  spoke  of  James  Grant 
when  he  came  courting  Evelyn.  As  to  the  girl  her- 
self, there  had  been  others  aside  from  old  Mrs. 
Howard  who  had  been  of  the  opinion  she  would  go 
puttering  through  life  alone.  Once  Evelyn  had  had 
ambitions;  that  was  the  time  the  old  square  piano  in 
the  front  room  out  on,  the  Craig  ranch  had  been 
opened  and  Evelyn  had  x  set  herself  to  conquering 
little  pot  hooks  and  rests  on  sheet  music.  But  it  had 
come  to  little.  She  found  that,  after  a  good  deal  of 
effort,  she  was  able  acceptably  to  render  "The 
Maiden's  Prayer,"  but  as  for  music  being  a  life 
work,  there  was  something  decidedly  missing. 

In  some  ways  she  was  pretty  enough,  but  for 
some  reason  suitors  passed  the  Craig  ranch  by  aftef 
one  or  two  tentative  attempts  to  interest  Evelyn  in 
themselves,  or  to  become  interested  in  her.  Prob- 
ably psychologists  would  have  spoken  of  Evelyn  as 
negative.  She  had  never  given  the  matter  much 
thought  herself.  The  question  of  ways  and  means 
of  living  was  far  more  important.  That  was  why, 
when  thirty  years  of  living  loomed  not  far  off,  the 
girl  had  realized  that  life  had  narrowed  itself  down 
to  one  of  two  possibilities.  She  must  get  married, — 
or  she  must  get  work.  So,  depending  on  the  more 
assured  one,  she  had  taken  up  dressmaking,  and  the 
people  of  San  Leandro  who  had  known  her  all  her 
life  thought  it  an  estimable  conclusion.  Then  had 


4  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

come  James  Grant, — and  the  unexpected  had  hap- 
pened. Somehow,  someway,  he  and  Evelyn  had 
made  each  other  understand.  Now  they  were 
married. 

Her  wedding  day  was  Evelyn  Craig's  triumph. 
How  often  had  she  been  present  at  other  weddings 
in  that  same  church, — the  church  where  she  and  the 
other  Craigs  had  worshiped  all  their  lives;  where 
she  had  herself  been  christened!  How  often  had 
her  own  nimble  fingers  fashioned  the  garments  worn 
by  other  brides,  garments  which  had  been  folded  into 
their  boxes  with  a  little  sigh  as  the  inconsequent 
dressmaker  had  resigned  herself,  time  and  again;  to 
fate. 

Miss  Amanda  Perkins  outdid  herself  in  de- 
scribing the  wedding  in  the  News.  And  it  was  a 
sight  to  be  remembered.  Never  had  the  First 
Church  looked  more  beautiful  than  it  did  in  its 
garnishing  of  cherry  blossoms  from  the  Craig  ranch, 
and  the  tendered  garlands  from  the  wondrous  gar- 
dens of  friends  more  prosperous.  It  was  Miss 
Amanda,  too,  who  gave  just  one  hint  of  why  those 
other  gardens  were  more  flourishing,  a  story  that  all 
San  Leandro  had  known  since  they  had  known  any- 
thing. 

"The  bride,"  wrote  the  society  editor,  "who  is, 
as  everyone  knows,  the  grand-daughter  of  that 
esteemed  citizen  of  ours,  Samuel  Craig,  walked  up 
the  aisle  between  the  great  boughs  of  cherry  blossoms 
from  her  own  home, — that  home  in  which  also  lives 
a  pioneer  of  the  days  when  our  wonderful  state  was 
the  mecca  of  seekers  after  gold,  and  one  who  might, 
had  he  chosen  other  than  the  sterling  path  he  trod, 
to-day  have  been  domiciled  in  a  palace  instead  of  in 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  5 

the  lovely  old  ranch  upon  which  he  settled  in  those 
old  days " 

Samuel  Craig  had  been  a  pioneer.  As  Miss 
Perkins  suggested,  he  might,  too,  have  become  as 
wealthy  as  some  of  his  confreres  had  he  been 
possessed  of  equal  business  acumen.  But  like  other 
Craigs,  before  and  after  him,  old  Samuel  had  been 
content  to  plod  along,  to  "make  both  ends  meet," 
and  the  meeting  ends  had  not  always  been  accom- 
plished without  considerable  stretching,  albeit  with  a 
plodding  complacency.  Still,  there  was  no  one  in 
San  Leandro  who  did  not  know  the  Craigs,  and  re- 
spect them;  not  one  whovwas  not  anxious  to  do  honor 
to  Evelyn  Craig  on  her  Wedding  day, — the  greatest 
event  of  her  life, — all  the  greater  triumph  because  of 
its  unexpectedness. 

Four  bridesmaids  in  their  fluffy  beruffled  gowns, 
a  maid  of  honor  with  a  bouquet  almost  as  large  as 
the  bride's  own,  four  black-frock-coated  ushers, 
clustered  about  the  newly  married  couple  as  they 
passed  out  of  sight  of  the  guests  within  the  church  to 
make  their  way  to  the  waiting  carriages.  In  eager 
tones  they  chattered  congratulations,  but  it  was 
Sarah  Condon,  the  maid  of  honor,  Evelyn's  best 
friend,  who  voiced  what  they  were  all  anxious  to 
know. 

"And  now,"  she  said  to  the  bride  who  glanced 
happily,  shyly,  at  her  life  partner,  "I  suppose  you 
and  James  will  break  all  the  silence  and  let  us  into 
the  mystery.  Where  are  you  going — what  are  you 
going  to  do?  Would  you  believe  it,"  and  she  turned 
to  the  others  with  outstretched  gloved  palms,  "not 
even  I  have  been  able  to  find  out  one  thing  about  their 
plans » 


C  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Yes,  Jim,  come  on,  tell  us!"  urged  the  groom's 
best  friend  as  he  clapped  him  heartily  on  the 
shoulder.  "Is  it  San  Jose, — and  the  Hotel 
Vendome?"  It  was  hard  for  Alex  Holden  to  be- 
lieve that  anyone  could  get  married  and  not  spend 
at  least  two  days  at  the  Vendome.  It  was  all  wrong 
to  him,  somehow,  as  it  was  to  others  of  San  Leandro, 
to  whom  such  a  schedule,  through  years  of  usage, 
had  come  to  be  all  but  part  of  a  wedding  ceremony. 

James  Grant  smiled  his  slow,  non-committal  smile. 
But  he  did  not  answer  at  once,  as  his  eyes  dropped  to 
the  bride  at  his  side.  It  was  she  who  spoke. 

"No,"  and  her  head  shook  slowly,  "we — we're 
going — home!" 

The  first  intimation  to  anyone  that  James  and 
Evelyn  had  been  for  weeks  preparing  their  home  in 
San  Francisco,  a  home  only  a  short  distance  away 
from  the  wholesale  grocery  firm  of  Tuttle,  Brandon 
&  Briggs  where  James  Grant  all  but  lived  and  had 
his  being,  where  his  plodding  worth  was  recognized 
by  the  employing  firm  to  the  extent  of  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  dollars  every  month, — a  sum  that  had  no 
little  to  do  with  the  enthusiasm  with  which  the  Craig 
family  had  welcomed  him  as  one  of  their  clan. 

On  their  wedding  day,  their  small  flat  on  Capp 
Street,  between  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth,  was  a 
home  all  ready  for  them  to  step  into.  To  Evelyn 
Grant  it  was  a  place  of  wonder.  That  it  remained 
so  for  many  a  year  to  come  (always,  in  fact)  is  only 
a  commentary  on  her  loyalty,  her  love  for  what  was 
her  own!  But  how  could  anyone  else  reason  other- 
wise, she  declared,  during  that  first  hour  of  wonder 
when  she  and  her  newly  made  husband  were  alone  in 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  7 

that  home  for  the  first  time.  Just  look  at  the  lovely 
bath  tub !  The  hot  and  cold  water !  Everything ! 

It  was  not  altogether  romance,  however,  that  had 
persuaded  the  frugal  two  to  forego  a  San  Jose  trip. 
Nor  would  anyone  who  knew  either  well  have 
imagined  it  for  a  moment.  They  had  "talked  it 
over"  in  the  Craig  way,  and  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion there  were  so  many  ways  in  which  the 
money  necessary  for  such  a  trip  could  be  put  to  better 
advantage. 

Had  they,  perhaps,  been  madly  in  love  with  each 
other,  as  so  many  young  people  are,  or  imagine 
they  are,  during  that  rosy-hued  interlude  between 
engagement  and  marriage,x  they  might  not  have  been 
so  practical.  Perhaps,  too,  in  that  case,  the  course 
of  their  years  might  have  been  different. 

But  neither  Evelyn  Craig  nor  James  Grant  were 
capable  of  a  mad  love,  a  passionate  one,  or  one  re- 
quiring any  extraordinary  display  of  emotion.  They 
loved  each  other, — yes, — but  in  a  calm,  sensible 
manner.  They  entered  into  a  life  partnership  on  the 
basis  of  having  found  each  other  thoroughly  com- 
panionable, and  believing  in  all  sincerity  that  each 
was  bettering  his  or  her  condition  in  all  ways. 

Evelyn  Craig's  desire  had  been  to  marry  a 
"steady"  young  man.  James  Grant  filled  the  role  to 
perfection.  She  had  fulfilled  her  mission. 

James  Grant's  one  thought  had  been  to  wed  a 
sweet,  refined  girl  who  would  make  a  good  wife  and 
mother.  In  selecting  Evelyn  Craig  he  felt  certain 
he  had  chosen  not  only  wisely,  but  well. 

Their  life  together  began  in  the  Capp  Street  flat 
in  June,  eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-four.  It 


8  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

traveled  along  with  the  precise  monotony  of  the  per- 
fectly regulated  eight-day  clock,  the  winding  of 
which  was  a  weekly  ceremony  with  the  head  of  the 
house.  Nothing  ever  ventured  from  its  usual 
routine  in  the  Grant  household;  variation  was  an 
unknown  word  in  that  establishment. 

Sarah  Condon,  returning  to  San  Leandro  after  a 
visit  to  Evelyn  a  few  months  after  her  marriage, 
described  the  situation  in  her  friend's  home  in  a  way 
to  bring  smiles  to  the  faces  of  friends,  but  they  were 
understanding,  loyal  smiles.  Did  they  not  all  know 
Evelyn  ? 

"It's  this  way,"  explained  Sarah.  "Every  Mon- 
day she  has  beef  stew  for  dinner;  nothing  could 
possibly  induce  her  to  change  to  veal  or  anything  else. 
Then  there  are  pork  chops  on  Tuesday;  hamburger 
on  Wednesday,  and  everything  just  like  that  on 
through  Friday  and  fish,  and  Sunday  with  the  roast 
that  must  do  duty  later  on  in  the  week.  Would  you 
believe  it, — she  has  that  schedule  all  written  out  in 
the  little  note  book  in  which  she  keeps  her  recipes 
for  cake,  but  why  she  needs  the  reminder  is  beyond 
me " 

Old  Mrs.  Howard  nodded,  fully  comprehending. 

"And  I  suppose  they're  always  at  the  church  door 
on  Sunday  mornings  when  it  is  opened,  and " 

"Oh,  certainly,"  gushed  Sarah,  "and  I  couldn't 
even  begin  to  tell  you  how  they  regulate  everything 
'else, — everything,  mind  you — Evelyn  comes  over 
here  every  Friday,  as  you  know,  to  visit  with  her 
mother  and  grandmother,  and " 

"And  to  'talk  things  over',"  cut  in  the  elder 
woman,  with  a  broad  wink. 

''Yes,  and,"  continued  Sarah,  "James  meets  her 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  9 

in  front  of  Campis  at  six  when  she  comes  in  on  the 
five  o'clock  boat,  and  they  have  their  fifty-cent  table 
d'hote  (fish  comes  in  the  middle  of  the  day  on 
Friday),  and  then  at  seven  they're  standing  in  front 
of  the  Tivoli  Opera  House  with  their  twenty-five 
cent  tickets  in  their  hands,  ready  to  join  in  the  mad 
rush  when  the  doors  are  opened — and  on  Sundays 
the  Golden  Gate  Park  and  the  concert " 

Miss  Amanda  Perkins  smiled  the  wise  smile  in 
which  she  always  indulged  herself,  in  view  of  her 
wider  experience  of  life  than  the  other  members  of 
the  Rebecca  Sewing  Circle  (Miss  Amanda  never 
missed  a  meeting, — one,  never  knew  what  might 
happen, — or  be  told).  She  bit  off  a  thread  in  a 
competent  way  that  might  not  be  expected  as  the  ac- 
complishment of  a  lady  who  made  her  living  with 
pencil  and  typewriter. 

"What  you  might  call  a  wild  life,  they  lead, — 
for  a  newly  married  couple,"  she  commented. 

But  old  Mrs.  Howard's  smile  was  sage,  the  shake 
of  her  head  all-wise,  as  she  put  in  her  few  slowly 
spoken  words.  "Wonder,  now,  what  babies  will  do 
to  that  there  routine?"  she  asked. 

Which  might  have  been  a  reasonable  suggestion 
had  it  been  made  about  anyone  less  methodical,  less 
prone  to  excitement  or  to  allowing  an  interruption  to 
her  ordered  ways  than  Evelyn  Grant.  For  come  the 
children  did,  as  was  inevitable.  But  in  no  particular 
that  could  visibly  be  noticed,  was  changed  the  routine 
of  the  Grants, — save  that,  of  course,  there  were  no 
longer  visits  to  the  Tivoli  on  Friday  night,  and  there 
were  no  table  d'hote's. 

It  was  probably  the  one  and  only  time  that  James 
Grant  might  have  been  suspected  of  emotion,  of  any 


10  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

sentiment  that  was  subconsciously  submerged,  when 
there  was  laid  in  his  arms  the  tiny  mite  of  humanity 
with  the  moist  dark  curls  and  the  blue  eyes  that 
opened  wide,  even  in  new  life  to  gaze  wonderingly  at 
him.  A  strange  thing, — it  felt  like  a  throb  in  his 
throat, — came  to  James  Grant  as  he  held  his  first 
child.  Then  he  bent  down  and  kissed  the  wee  bit  of 
embryonic  femininity  half  apologetically,  as  he  caught 
his  wife's  smile  from  the  bed  on  which  she  lay,  pale 
and  weak. 

"My — our  little  Norah!"  he  whispered.     "My 
own!" 


CHAPTER  II 

IT  might  not  be  straining  the  facts  to  say  that,  for 
the  first  moments  his  firstborn  lay  in  his 
arms,  there  had  been  something  prophetic  in 
James  Grant's  vision, — that  he  sensed  that  that  child 
was  destined  for  things  far  greater  than  he  or  the 
child's  mother  had  ever  dreamed.  But  if  there  was 
that  meager  glimmering,  it  was  gone  in  even  less 
time  than  it  takes  to  record  it. 

Little  Norah, — she  was  named  Norah,  after  his 
mother  in  Scotland,  who  promptly  sent  a  box  of  in- 
fants' clothes  and  twenty-five  dollars, — was  not  many 
hours  older  before  her  father  was  once  more  the 
plodding,  methodical  man  who  was  such  an  efficient 
employee  of  his  wholesaler  employers.  For  just  that 
moment,  he  had  considered  his  child, — a  wonder 
child.  Then — he  had  promptly  gone  back  to  the 
consideration  of  ways  and  means  for  her  support. 

On  the  day  the  box  arrived  from  Scotland,  Evelyn 
Grant  was  sitting  up.  Still  a  bit  pale  and  wan, 
propped  among  her  pillows,  it  was  nevertheless  char- 
acteristic of  the  girl  who,  wanting  a  "steady  man," 
had  got  James  Grant,  that  she  was  not  busying  her- 
self with  anything  frivolous  on  this,  the  first  day  of 
her  taking  up  once  more  her  routine  life.  In  front 
of  her  lay  the  familiar  note  book;  beside  it,  another 
much  like  it,  brand  new,  but  with  only  a  few  entries, 
so  far.  Evelyn's  brow  puckered  as  she  wet  the  tip 
of  her  pencil  in  her  mouth,  and  stopped  to  glance  up 

11 


12  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

at  her  mother,  seated  near  the  window,  her  own  fingers 
busy  with  the  crocheting  of  a  new  sacque  that  was  to 
warm  the  child  sleeping  in  her  cradle  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed.  For  the  moment,  both  were  silent,  but  the 
work  in  the  note  book  was  evidence  the  Craigs  had 
once  more  been  "talking  it  over." 

"Now,  let's  see,  mother,"  mused  the  younger 
mother.  "Have  I  got  it  all  straightened?"  She 
picked  up  the  note  book  to  read  from  the  entries. 
"Six  o'clock,  warm  milk;  eight,  sponge  bath, — mm — 
mm — outing;"  the  pencil  poised  over  each  word, 
"mm — mm — nap — bed  at  five  o'clock — yes, — that 
will  give  me  plenty  of  time,  and " 

The  ring  at  the  bell  stopped  the  musing.  Open- 
ing the  door,  Mrs.  Craig  betrayed  surprise  at  the  un- 
wieldy box  the  expressman  delivered.  Even  before 
attempting  to  open  it,  she  examined  the  strange, 
foreign  labels. 

"From  Edinburgh,"  she  announced,  as  she  turned 
it  over  and  over,  one  hand  reaching  for  the  scissors 
to  cut  the  strings.  Evelyn  beamed  complacently. 

'"Clothes,  probably,"  was  her  comment,  as  the 
light  of  economy  showed  in  the  eyes  worried  with 
note  book  notations.  "That  will  be  splendid, — such 
a  saving " 

When  strings  were  cut,  though,  and  the  donation 
of  the  elder  Mrs.  Grant  displayed  to  her  daughter- 
in-law,  the  dying  fire  in  those  eyes  might  have  a  little 
chilled  the  woman  whose  gift  was  there.  In  all  likeli- 
hood, there  was  or  had  been  somebody,  somewhere, 
in  the  Grant  family,  though  he  or  she  may  have  been 
buried  so  deep  in  the  past  oblivion  as  never  to  have 
been  discovered,  who  had  a  wee  bit  of  sentiment  in 
his,  or  her  Scotch  nature.  It  had  not  been  a  heritage 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  13 

of  either  James  Grant's  or  his  mother's  generation. 
Yet — when  the  elder  Mrs.  Grant  had  packed  and 
sent  that  box,  with  her  frugal  idea  of  spending  as 
little  as  possible,  she  had  written: 

"...  and  most  of  these  wee  garments 
were  worn  by  Jamie  and  his  brother. 
They  have  lain  away  these  years,  .  .  . 
they  may  be  of  use  to  the  bit 
daughter  ..." 

Evelyn  Grant  handled  the  hand  made  dresses, 
petticoats  and  other  bits  of  handiwork  with  her 
faint  sigh.  So  fine  they  had  been  once;  so  hopeless 
now.  Her  practiced  fingers,  slipping  along  creases, 
went  through  the  material  to  expose  a  needle-pricked 
finger  tip.  With  her  there  was  no  sentiment;  no 
tender  feeling  that  her  own  husband,  once  a  baby 
himself,  had  once  worn  those  tiny,  old-fashioned 
things;  that  his  own  baby  fingers  had  worn  to  their 
thinness  the  small  sleeves.  Only  the  practical  side  of 
their  utility  appealed  to  her.  She  laid  them  all  back 
into  their  box  carefully,  after  as  careful  a  survey. 
Watching,  her  mother  did  not  fail  to  see  the  disap- 
pointment. 

"Let's  not  examine  them  further  now,"  soothed 
the  practical  Mrs.  Craig.  "We'll  talk  it  over  later. 
"This  check,  now, — it  will  start  a  nice  bank  account 
for  baby." 

It  was  not  until  weeks  later,  after  Evelyn  had  done 
her  best  to  remodel  some  of  the  garments,  with  no 
sign  of  success,  since  they  seemed  virtually  to  fall  to 
pieces  under  her  fingers,  that  she  gave  up  making  any 
use  of  the  gift  from  small  Norah's  Scotch  grand- 
parent. 


14  THE   LOSING  GAIN 

Things  went  along  smoothly,  once  more,  on  Capp 
Street,  between  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth.  Every 
morning  the  sun  came  up,  tingeing  the  Golden  Gate. 
Birds  in  the  square  twittered  and  picked  up  crumbs 
much  as  they  had  always  done,  as  James  Grant  swung 
out  of  his  entrance  and  into  the  street,  bound  for  his 
car,  Tuttle,  Brandon  &  Briggsward.  Newsboys 
flopped  the  same  looking  papers  with  much  the  same 
sort  of  headlines  down  in  front  of  doorways  with 
much  the  same  sort  of  abandon;  milkmen  clinked 
bottles  onto  doorsteps  as  they  have  from  time  im- 
memorial; ash-carts  thumped  their  way  with  a 
clattering  of  cans;  cars  zoomed  along  with  a  clang- 
ing of  bells  as  their  quota  to  a  morning 
orchestration. 

James  Grant  started  to  work  in  the  wholesale  gro- 
cery; waited  on  his  steady  customers;  went  home; 
had  dinner. 

That  was  how  the  old  world  ran  along, — as  it  had 
run  along  so  long;  gave  evidence  of  running  along 
indefinitely.  One  might  as  well  have  hoped  for  the 
tide  to  turn  westward  from  the  coast  at  flood,  as  to 
have  expected  change. 

There  were  a  few,  of  course.  Twice  James  and 
Evelyn  had  to  forego  their  Sundays  in  Golden  Gate 
Park  as  usual,  with  James  proudly  carrying  his  off- 
spring,— but  that  was  only  an  intermission,  to  be 
resumed  with  James  carrying  another  a  few  weeks 
later,  with  his  eldest  toddling  happily  along, — small 
Norah,  able  to  walk  and  take  notice  of  things  for 
herself. 

Twice  more,  after  Norah's  birth,  the  doctor  came 
to  the  Grant  home;  the  same  number  of  times  James 
Grant  failed  to  appear  at  the  regular  hour  at  Tuttle, 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  1* 

Brandon  &  Briggs',  only  to  appear  a  short  time  later 
with  the  happily  embarrassed  announcement  that 
brought  smiles  and  congratulatory  words  from  fel- 
low employees.  For  James  was  raising  a  family;  it 
was  part  of  his  chosen  routine;  it  could  not  be  de- 
parted from,  any  more  than  could  the  regularity  of 
the  tides  at  King  Canute's  command,  or  that  of  the 
sun  at  the  word  from  Joshua,  no  matter  who  has 
believed  the  tale  of  the  imaginative  Israelite  his- 
torians to  other  effect. 

When  Norah  was  four  and  a  half,  her  small  sister, 
Susan,  two,  and  James  Junior  had  but  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  life,  the  father  of  that  Capp  Street 
family  congratulated  himself  on  being  the  luckiest 
of  men.  True,  he  had  small  hope  of  ever  going 
beyond  the  hundred  and  twenty-five  a  month  he  was 
collecting  as  regularly  as  the  book-keeper  in  the 
office  of  his  employers  added  up  figures,  but  he  was 
content.  True,  he  and  Evelyn  had  never  been  able 
to  save  much, — but  he  was  content.  Content  as  the 
wife  herself,  congratulatory  because  of  bills  paid, 
money  for  doctors  and  new  layettes  at  each  appear- 
ance of  a  new  Grant,  and  the  possibility  of  meeting 
the  payments  on  a  two-thousand  dollar  life  insurance 
policy. 

It  was  assured, — a  certainty, — that  it  would  take 
something  cataclysmic  to  change  the  ordered  routine 
of  the  lives  of  the  Grants.  It  would  have  been 
evident  even  to  the  casual  observer,  this  thing  that 
more  advised  friends  took  as  for  granted  as  the  ris- 
ing and  setting  of  the  regular  sun.  More  so, — for 
sometimes  the  sun  did  not  rise,  even  over  San 
Francisco, — on  these  days  when  a  murky  brown  haze 
that  rivaled  a  famed  London  fog  hung  over  the  city 


16  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

from  the  Golden  Gate  to  the  Ferry.  But  the  Grants 
had  breakfast;  James  Grant  went  to  work;  Evelyn 
Grant  cared  for  her  children,  and  consulted  her  small 
black  book  as  to  what  should  be  for  dinner.  With 
life  drawn  in  a  straight  and  narrow  line,  nothing  ever 
marred  the  tranquillity  that  reigned  supreme  in  that 
one  household.  Even  the  luxury  of  an  argument  was 
an  unheard-of  thing,  for,  in  a  home  managed  with 
such  regularity,  with  lives  so  disposed,  there  was  no 
need  for  the  atmosphere-clearing  that  is  so  life-giving 
in  other  homes  of  a  man,  a  woman,  and  their 
progeny. 

It  came  more  like  a  thunderbolt  than  an  earth- 
quake,— that  imperative  cataclysm  that  jolted  the  un- 
joltable.  The  Grant  household  at  last  was  jarred 
out  of  its  calm.  But  with  that  jarring  there  was  an 
earth  upheaval  that  shook  foundations  of  stone  and 
granite,  that  tumbled  vast  skyscrapers  into  the  dust 
to  become  the  fragments  from  which  they  had 
sprung.  There  came  to  the  Grants,  living  peacefully 
through  their  lives  in  San  Francisco,  that  same  thing 
that  brought  from  the  whole  world  stricken  gasps  of 
shuddering  commiseration  when  it  became  known  a 
city  had  been  desolated,  a  community  of  thousands  of 
souls  laid  waste  within  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, — the 
earthquake  that  will  go  down  in  the  accounts  of  his- 
tory as  has  the  telling  of  the  destruction  of  Nineveh 
and  Tyre;  the  flood  that  brought  fame  to  a  man 
called  Noah, — the  San  Francisco  earthquake  and 
fire. 

The  Grants  were  awakened  from  their  lethargy; 
not  they  alone,  but  the  thousand  around  them,  in  the 
horror  of  swift-moving  disaster,  earth  tremor,  and 
its  accompanying  fire,  that  swept  along  in  its  wide- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  17 

swirling  path,  spreading,  like  an  enraged  demon, 
from  housetop  to  housetop,  forcing  the  panic- 
stricken  people  of  San  Francisco  to  flee  from  their 
homes,  to  seek  what  refuge  they  might  in  outlying 
districts,  the  park,  the  beach,  anywhere,  everywhere 
that  could  possibly  afford  scant  protection  from  the 
monster  that  traveled  with  lightning  rapidity  on  its 
remorseless  journey  of  destruction. 

At  five-eighteen  on  the  morning  of  April  the 
eighteenth,  James  Grant,  with  a  shock  to  which  he 
was  unaccustomed,  sat  straight  up  in  bed  and  reached 
frantically  for  the  wife  who  slept  peacefully  beside 
him. 

"Evelyn!"  he  cried,  half  choked.  "For  God's 
sake,  wake  up!  The  end  of  the  world  has  come!" 

Startled,  breathless,  only  half  out  of  the  peaceful 
dreams  from  which  she  had  been  so  rudely  shaken, 
Evelyn  Grant  sat  up,  as  bidden,  and  looked  dazedly 
about  her.  What  was  that  James  was  trying  to  say? 

The  end  of  the  world  had Yes,  it  must  be  so ! 

How  queer  things  were !  The  bureau,  the  chiffonier, 
all  such  familiar  things  were  walking  straight  away 
from  their  accustomed  places  to  dance  in  the  middle 
of  the  neatly  swept  floor;  the  chandelier,  too,  was 
swaying  back  and  forth  like  a  drunken  thing, 
threatening  momentarily  to  leave  its  staid  ceiling 
moorings  and  come  tumbling  down  to  land  in  the 
middle  of  the  bed.  From  somewhere  outside, — it 
must  be  from  the  kitchen, — there  came  singular 
sounds  of  jingling  and  crashing  as  though  every  dish, 
bottle  and  kitchen  utensil  in  the  place  had  gone  on  a 
mad  spree.  In  her  half  conscious  brain  there  incon- 
tinently flashed  that  absurd  picture  in  Norah's 
Mother  Goose  Book  of  the  dish  running  away  with 


18  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

the  spoon, — and  the  spoon's  silly  grin.  Then  she 
came  to,  wide  awake,  with  a  shudder  of  horror,  of 
query,  as  to  what  it  all  meant.  From  the  flat  below 
there  sounded,  in  the  one  minute's  hush  as  the 
furniture  ceased  to  dance,  a  succession  of  wild 
screams  as  an  accompaniment  to  the  shower  of  bricks 
that  fell  directly  in  front  of  their  bedroom  window. 
That  shower  of  bricks  was  at  least  a  concrete  thing 
to  Evelyn  Grant.  With  one  trembling  hand  she 
grasped  her  husband's  night-shirt  sleeve. 

"Jimmie!  Jimmie!"  she  cried,  in  a  half  awed, 
half  hysterical  whisper.  "What  is  it, — oh,  what  has 
happened?" 

Already,  though,  James  Grant  was  shaken  out  of 
the  land  of  dreams  to  a  realization  that  the  thing  his 
city  had  so  long  dreaded  had  become  a  reality. 

"It's  an  earth-quake,  dear, — and  believe  me,  it's 
a  real  shake  this  time  and  no  mistake!  I've  felt 

others,  but  this "  In  one  leap  he  was  at  the 

window,  careless  of  his  wife's  restraining  hand.  A 
long  drawn  whistle  escaped  him.  "Whew!  Looks 
like  every  chimney  in  the  block  is  down,  and  more 
to  come " 

Down  in  the  street  into  which  he  gazed  with  awe, 
as  Evelyn's  terror-stricken  eyes  took  in  in  one  glance 
the  early  dawn  scene,  tumbled  bricks,  cornices,  whole 
fronts  that  tottered  crazily  in  a  world  that  seemed  to 
tremble  all  over,  before  they  gave  up  the  struggle  to 
stand  up  and  fell.  Even  as  the  man  and  woman 
gazed,  the  street  became  alive  with  screaming, 
frightened  men,  women,  children;  clad  only  in  their 
night  clothing  for  the  most  part,  oblivious  of  every- 
thing save  the  animal  instinct  to  escape  from  the 
thing  they  so  feared, — principally  because  they  knew 
so  little  of  what  it  was  that  threatened. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  19 

It  was  this  sudden  realization  that  turned 
Evelyn  with  a  choking  cry  toward  the  inner  bed- 
room where  small  Norah  and  smaller  Susan  slept. 

"The  children!"  she  screamed  hysterically.  Her 
one  glance  out  of  the  window  had  been  but  of  a 
second's  duration,  yet  it  seemed  to  her  now,  as  she 
fled  to  the  closed  door,  that  she  had  been  gazing  an 

eternity  while  her  children  slept,  or "There's 

not  a  sound  coming  from  their  room!"  she  choked. 

Simultaneously  father  and  mother  reached  the 
separating  door  and  threw  it  wide  open.  Even  in  his 
stress,  something  of  a  film  came  to  James  Grant's 
eyes  at  what  he  saw.  For,  sitting  up  in  bed,  her 
arms  protectingly  about  her  smaller  sister,  sat  Norah 
Grant,  calm,  maternal,  as  she  soothed. 

"Hush,  hush,  Susy,"  she  was  saying,  "stop  cry- 
ing! Nothing's  going  to  hurt  you — it's  only  a  war 
in  Chinatown,  like  papa  was  telling  us  about  the  other 
night!  They  only  shoot  Cliinamen,  so  you  needn't 

worry "  She  glanced  up  as  Evelyn  flew  across 

the  room  to  fall  on  her  knees  by  the  bed,  holding  both 
children  in  an  all-embrace.  "Here's  mama  and  papa, 
now,"  she  went  on,  quite  as  coolly,  "so  you  see  it's 
all  right. 

A  sob  came  into  the  mother's  throat,  as  she,  too, 
took  her  turn  at  soothing.  "There,  there,  dear,  it's 
all  right,"  she  assured,  though  her  own  heart  was 
quaking  at  the  possibility  of  what  might  be  happen- 
ing outside  the  home  where  danger  was  threatening 
in  each  of  her  own  swaying  household  gods.  It  was 
not  till  long  after  that  either  James  or  Evelyn  knew 
that  the  brunt  of  the  disaster  had  passed  them  by. 
What  had  happened  to  them  had  been  frightful 
'enough,  but  they  knew  later  that  had  the  thing  fallen 
on  them  that  so  many  San  Franciscans  knew  that 


20  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

morning  they  would  neither  have  been  looking  out 
the  window  for  that  moment  at  wreckage,  nor  have 
taken  time  in  the  soothing  of  their  children.  But 
'danger,  Evelyn  knew,  was  abroad.  Hurriedly  she 
lifted  the  two  children  from  their  bed. 

"Is  it  a  war,  papa?"  Susy's  small  shivery  voice 
piped  up.  And  James  Grant,  worried  father,  could 
not  restrain  a  smile. 

"Guess  not,  dear,"  he  said,  "though  it  did  sound 
like  one,  didn't  it?  No,  we've  been  having  an  earth- 
quake, and "  He  glanced  anxiously  about  as  a 

second,  though  less  perceptible  tremor,  shook  the 
building;  rattled  the  loose  ornaments.  "Looks  like 
this  thing  isn't  over,  Evelyn,"  he  went  on.  "We'd 
all  better  be  getting  into  our  clothes  and  out  of 
here " 

Only  Norah  was  undisturbed. 

"Oh,  an  earthquake!"  she  observed,  as  she  pursed 
her  lips  in  thought.  "I  can  tell  you  all  about  them — 
we  learned  about  them  in  school  only  this  week!" 

"Well,  we  may  all  learn  a  lot  more  about  them, 
my  child,  if  we're  not  careful,"  admonished  the 
father.  "Into  your  clothes,  quick,  youngsters!" 

At  the  cribside  of  young  James,  the  mother 
stopped. 

"Will  you  just  look  at  this!"  she  exclaimed,  as  she 
looked  down  at  the  peacefully  sleeping  cherub. 
"Slept  right  through  it  all!" 

James  Grant,  busy  with  a  shoe  string,  shook  his 
head. 

"Wish  he  might  pass  all  the  bad  things  of  life  as 
'easily,"  he  said,  "but " 


CHAPTER  III 

UNLIKE  so  many  victims  of  the  earth's 
fury  that  never-to-be-forgotten  morning,  the 
Grants  did  not  lose  their  home,  though  it  was 
a  pretty  wrecked  one  when  they  found  themselves 
once  more  in  a  position  to  pick  up  the  loose  ends  and 
try  to  go  on  in  their  simple  way  after  the  catastrophe. 

It  was  all  so  nightmarish, — this  disturbing  of 
life's  routine, — a  nightmkre  following  the  hysteria 
of  the  days  while  the  city  lay  in  ruins,  while  fire 
added  to  the  terrors,  wiped  out  homes,  fortunes, 
life  ambitions.  To  Evelyn,  and  to  James,  too,  it  all 
seemed  so  unreal.  There  were  the  unusual  crowds 
in  their  home;  the  woe-begone,  bedraggled  nonde- 
scripts who  but  a  few  days  before  had  been  as  happy 
and  ordered  families  as  that  of  the  Grants  them- 
selves, whom  that  few  hours  had  made  into  home- 
less wanderers.  And  like  everyone  else  in  San 
Francisco  during  those  days, — everyone  who  had  left 
even  a  semblance  of  a  home,  the  home  of  the  Grants 
had  been  thrown  open  to  whomsoever  needed  it. 
They  had  even  begun  to  believe  that  they  were  to  be 
congratulated  on  being  so  much  better  off  than  their 
once  neighbors  (for  did  they  not  still  have  their 
home,  each  other?)  when  the  worst  blow  fell.  To 
many  men  this  would  not  have  been  so  catastrophic; 
to  a  man  of  James  Grant's  habits,  it  was  like  taking 
away  the  foundations  of  his  whole  existence. 

For  the  house  of  Tuttle,  Brandon  &  Briggs  had 

21 


23  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

fallen  into  the  maw  of  the  conflagration;  fallen,  he 
was  to  learn,  never  to  rise  again.  Of  course,  they 
had  known  that  the  place  where  the  father  of  the 
family  had  worked  for  so  long  had  been  destroyed, 
but  it  never  occurred  to  Evelyn  or  to  James  that  it 
would  not  be  rebuilt.  When  James  first  heard  it,  he 
refused  to  believe.  To  think  that  he  would  no  longer 
be  part  of  that  house  where  so  much  of  his  existence 
had  been  spent  was  more  than  he  could  reason  out. 

"It  simply  can't  be  so,"  he  told  his  wife  when  he 
heard  the  news.  "I'll  go  to  Mr.  Tuttle  myself,  and 
he'll  tell  me  the  truth." 

"It's  only  too  true,"  said  his  employer,  in  telling 
him  that  dreaded  truth.  "We've  been  in  business  for 
thirty-five  years,  and  while  I  personally  hate  to  think 
of  retirement,  Brandon  and  Briggs  haven't  quite  the 
courage  to  start  over  again." 

It  was  a  stunning  blow  for  the  man  who  had  been 
with  the  same  firm  for  twenty  years,  first  as  errand 
boy  when  he  had  come  from  Scotland,  later  to  work 
up  to  the  competence  which  made  him  so  desirable 
a  parti  for  Evelyn  with  the  Craig  family. 

He  was  surprised  for  the  second  time  when  he  dis- 
covered that  his  wife  did  not  view  the  matter  one 
half  so  seriously  as  he  did  himself.  "Well,  we'll 
have  to  talk  it  over,"  she  told  him.  "Of  course 
you'll  get  excellent  references — who  knows  but  what 
you'll  get  even  a  better  place  somewhere  else — so 
many  are  rebuilding." 

So  they  were;  but  so,  too,  were  not  only  old 
employees  being  taken  back,  but  there  were  women 
and  girls  wrho,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  must 
go  out  into  the  world  of  livelihood  making,  willing, 
for  many  reasons,  to  give  their  services  for  far  less 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  «3 

than  any  man  could  be  employed;  especially  such  a 
man  as  James  Grant  to  whom  his  former  salary  had 
been  a  minimum  for  the  actual  necessities  for  his 
family. 

It  was  a  month  before  he  found  anything  he  could 
do, — a  month  through  which  he  walked  with  bowed 
head,  all  other  signs  of  trouble  he  saw  on  all  sides 
of  him  forgotten  or  unheeded  as  he  faced  this  one 
great  big  thing  in  his  own  life;  while  he  searched  and 
searched  for  work.  The  great  piles  of  crumbled 
stone  and  ashes  of  what  had  once  been  prosperous 
businesses  became  synonomous  only  with  the  shattering 
of  his  own  hopes.  Men  and  women  he  met  in  the 
streets,  eager,  buoyant  with  that  hope  which  has  ever 
made  the  Californian  never  say  die,  in  their  own 
scurrying  to  lift  their  city  from  the  ashes,  meant  to 
him  only  so  many  obstacles  in  his  own  way  toward 
earning  the  needed  living. 

And  then  at  the  end  of  the  month,  he  found  what 
he  was  looking  for,  but  it  was  almost  with  a  sense  of 
shame,  and  net  with  any  air  of  triumph  or  eagerness 
that  he  wended  his  way  homeward  to  tell  his  wife  he 
had  found  a  place  in  Oakland. 

"It's  twenty-five  a  month  less  money,"  he  said 
'dubiously,  if  not  dolorously,  "and — and  there's  the 
commutation,  and " 

"Never  mind!"  Evelyn,  wakened  through  the 
catastrophe  to  a  sense  of  other  things  than  routine 
more  than  her  husband,  was  jubilant.  She  had  been 
hiding  behind  the  same  sort  of  mask  now,  for  there 
were  many  moments  when  she  wondered  just  what  they 
were  going  to  do, — those  moments  when  the  bills, 
hitherto  an  unknown  thing, — came  in.  James  Grant 
opened  his  eyes  at  the  strange  thing  she  did.  Evelyn 


24  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

had  never  been  given  to  demonstration,  and  for  years 
now  she  had  not  given  even  a  semblance  of  it,  but 
she  came  straight  to  him  and  put  her  arms  about 
him  as  she  did  his  children. 

"It's  all  right,  dear,"  she  told  him.  "We'll 
manage, — splendidly.  I'd  say  go  to  Oakland  ex- 
cept for  Norah, — she's  doing  so  well  at  school,  and 
then  she  will  graduate  next  term, — no," — she  seemed 
to  think  seriously,  weighing  the  subject, — "I  think 
we'd  best  stay  here — I'll  economize  someway  to 
make  up  the  commutation  money " 

James  Grant's  own  arms  closed  tightly  about  his 
wife.  He  could  not  help  a  bit  of  wonder  at  it, 
though,  all  the  time.  It  was  so  foreign  to  both  their 
ways,  this. 

"Wonder  girl!"  he  half  choked.  "Who  could 
help  succeeding  with  a  wife  like  you?  I  will, — I 
promise  you  I  will!" 

But  to  will  is  one  thing;  to  execute  another;  as  the 
husband  was  to  find  out.  Too  long  had  he  been 
a  fixture;  too  long  had  he  grown  in  one  place.  He 
could  not  stand  transplanting. 

He  had  not  been  with  the  new  firm  two  weeks  be- 
fore he  knew  that  to  work  for  one  concern  for 
nearly  twenty  years,  then  try  to  accustom  himself  to 
the  methods  of  another  was  by  no  means  a  thing  easy 
of  accomplishment. 

To  begin  with,  the  methodical  regularity  by  which 
he  had  lived  for  years  was  abolished.  He  was 
obliged  to  rise  an  hour  and  a  half  earlier  every  morn- 
ing in  order  to  reach  his  work  in  time;  and  where  for 
many  years  he  had  never  remained  at  his  desk  a 
minute  after  six,  he  found  himself  working  at  least 
three  nights  a  week  until  ten;  even  eleven-thirty. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  25 

The  whole  world  to  him  was  changed.  He 
hardly  ever  saw  the  children  except  on  Sundays.  In 
the  mornings  when  he  left  they  were  not  up;  on 
nights  when  he  returned  late  from  work,  they  were 
in  bed.  The  few  evenings  he  did  come  home  early, 
he  usually  suffered  with  such  headaches  that  he  could 
scarcely  wait  to  get  to  bed  himself. 

To  many  men  these  things  would  have  meant 
nothing  at  all.  Adaptation  to  the  change  of  condition 
would  have  meant  only  a  short  time.  With  James 
Grant  it  was  different.  To  him,  routine,  the  doing  of 
regular  things  in  the  old,  regular  way,  was  the  breath 
of  life  itself. 

Of  a  sudden,  he  had  found  his  constitution  and 
disposition  thrown  into  a  veritable  turmoil.  So 
smoothly  had  his  life  run  along  that  the  variance 
from  its  regular  routine  was  as  serious  as  a  catas- 
trophe would  have  been  to  the  average  man. 

To  San  Franciscans  it  is  a  strange  thing  how  the 
impression  has  gone  out  to  the  rest  of  the  world  that 
their  city  is  always  a  land  of  sunshine.  There  is  no 
other  place  in  the  world  they  love  so  much,  or  that 
could  in  the  slightest  degree  take  its  place  in  their 
hearts.  But  they  will  tell  you  that  there  come  times 
when  the  wind  blows  cold  down  from  the  north, 
when  the  chill  of  the  dampness  cuts  through  like  a 
knife.  Not  long,  such  times;  but  unforgettable.  It 
was  on  one  such  night  in  December  that  James 
Grant  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  boat  from  Oakland, 
impatiently  waiting  for  the  landing.  Near  him  stood 
a  woman  wrapped  snugly  in  furs  that  alone  could 
withstand  such  breaths  of  Boreas,  gusts  that  all  but 
swept  them  all  from  the  deck.  Once  he  heard  her 
laugh,  as  her  companion,  a  big  man  in  a  huge  over- 


26  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

coat,  gripped  her  arm  to  aid  her  in  standing.  Grant 
shivered.  Why,  these  people  seemed  actually  to  be 
enjoying  this  thing, — this  blow  that  was  cutting  into 
his  very  lungs,  his  heart.  It  was  but  a  few  days  be- 
fore Christmas,  and  he  tried  to  think  of  that.  In- 
distinctly he  heard  the  woman's  voice  as  it  came  to 
him  through  the  gusts. 

" — and  they'll  probably  think  it  not  much  of  a 
Christmas  tree  this  year,  but  think  of  the  children  in 
San  Francisco  who " 

Even  while  he  pulled  his  own  threadbare  over- 
coat farther  up  about  his  neck  and  thrust  his  hands 
deeper  into  his  pockets,  the  man  was  thinking  of  his 
own  children;  of  his  Norah,  his  Susan,  James. 

" — and  they  probably  won't  think  it  much  of  a 

Christmas  this  year "  he  started  to  repeat. 

But  James  Grant  was  not  to  know  what  those 
children  thought  of  that  Christmas, — at  least  not 
through  any  words  they  would  be  able  to  speak  to 
him. 

He  could  not  get  his  mind  off  his  own  physical 
misery,  try  as  he  might.  Again  and  again  he  tried 
to  stop  the  chattering  of  his  teeth,  unavailingly. 
Only  dimly  he  listened  to  the  clanking  of  the  chains 
as  the  ferry  was  tied  to  her  dock;  then  he  found  him- 
self rushing  with  the  others  over  the  gang  plank 
and  running  for  his  car.  He  never  remembered  just 
how  he  got  home,  but  still  in  that  dim  hinterland  of 
"somewhere"  he  knew  he  was  staggering  into  his 
room  and  that  before  he  fell  across  the  couch  he 
heard  his  own  gasp  to  his  wife:  "I'm — very — sick!" 

And  Evelyn,  staid,  unimaginative  Evelyn  to  whom 
her  husband  and  children  had  ever  been  the  same  to 
care  for,  knew.  Even  as  she  threw  her  striped  shawl 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  27 

over  him  before  she  ran  to  telephone  for  a  doctor, 
she  knew  that  her  husband  had  spoken  truly, — that 
he  was  indeed  very  sick.  A  week  later,  when  he 
fell  into  a  peaceful  sleep  from  which  he  never 
awoke, — she  knew  that  all  the  disruption  of  her 
routine  which  had  been  brought  about  by  the  earth- 
quake, by  the  loss  of  her  husband's  position,  was  as 
nothing  to  this;  this  real  disruption  of  her  life. 

They  had  grown  so  used  to  each  other,  she  and 
Jim.  And  now 

Wearily  she  tried  to  co-ordinate  facts  in  her  head 
as  she  sat  in  her  own  darkened  room  day  after  day 
after  they  had  taken  Jim  away.  She  was  so  stunned. 
She  could  not  think.  Only  vaguely  she  realized  that, 
though  matters  were  being  taken  out  of  her  hands 
for  the  time  being,  that  it  was  only  a  matter  of  a 
short  time  until  she  would  have  to  take  up  her  burden 
again,  face  life  in  all  its  reality  and  without  the 
strong  arm  of  her  husband  on  which  to  lean.  She 
knew  it  best  that  night  when  her  mother  (Mrs. 
Craig  and  an  uncle  of  Evelyn's  had  come  over  from 
San  Leandro  to  take  charge  of  affairs  for  her  during 
the  first  stunning  shock  after  her  husband's  death) 
softly  opened  her  bedroom  door  and  whispered  for 
her  to  come  into  the  living  room  for  a  few  moments. 

Pale,  distrait,  little  interested,  the  mother  of 
Norah  and  Susan  and  James  Junior,  dropped  into 
the  rocker  her  uncle  pushed  forward.  She  did  not 
at  first  glance  up  when  her  mother  began  to  speak. 

"Evelyn,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Craig,  softly,  "we 
'don't  want  you  to  think  we're  hard,  or  that  we're  un- 
sympathetic,— but — but  don't  you  think  we're 
right, — isn't  it  right  to  Jim's  memory, — that  we 
should  get  together  and  talk  it  over?" 


28  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Evelyn  nodded.  There  was  for  once  something  so 
comforting  in  that  homely,  well-used  Craig  phrase 
of  "talking  it  over."  She  passed  her  hand  wearily 
across  her  burning  forehead. 

"I — I  know,  mother,"  she  admitted.  "I  have 
been  thinking  things  over, — I  know  I  must  do, — 
must — for  the  children,  and " 

Dave  Craig  assumed  a  business  manner  which  was 
a  most  unusual  one  for  him  as  he  pulled  a  packet  of 
papers  from  his  pocket. 

"Now  here  is  how  you  stand,"  he  began.  "I've 
attended  to  everything, — have  it  all  down  here  in 
black  and  white, — and  after  paying  up  everything 
from  the  insurance,  you  have  twelve  hundred  dollars. 
Now,  it  seems  to  me " 

The  widow  allowed  herself  the  ghost  of  a  smile. 
Uncle  Dave  was  such  a  child  where  business  matters 
were  concerned,  himself.  Some  inner  consciousness 
told  her  that  she  could  not,  must  not  try,  to  depend 
on  him  or  her  mother  any  longer,  but  that  she  must 
face  life  squarely,  for  her  children's  sake. 

"A  lot  of  money — for  about  a  year,"  she  ad- 
mitted. "Then "  She  glanced  around  the 

room,  and  her  hand  swept  toward  the  articles  she 
named.  "That's  not  all  my  assets.  See,  I 
have  the  furnishings  of  these  five  rooms,  worn 
considerably  it's  true,  but  still  livable, — one  square 

piano  that  is  usually  out  of  tune,  and "  a  vague 

light  came  into  her  eyes  as  she  moved  her  hand  again 
toward  her  sewing  machine  where  it  stood  in  the 
window,  " — yes, — I  have  that!" 

Old  Mrs.  Craig  was  relieved.  "Then  you  think 

you  can "  she  began,  and  her  daughter  nodded. 

"I  think  I  will  see  that  my  children  do  not  want," 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  29 

she  said  firmly,  and  it  was  then  that  there  seemed  to 
drop  from  her  the  lassitude  that  had  been  there  since 
her  husband's  death, — a  lassitude  that  was  never  to 
return  during  the  working,  plodding  years  that  fol- 
lowed while  she  proved  herself.  She  went  on 
hurriedly,  seemingly  anxious  that  they  should  not 
question  her  too  much.  "Yes,  I  have  had  time  for 
planning, — a  little — and  here  is  what  I  think.  Susan 
of  course,  must  keep  on  at  school,  and  Jimmie. 
That  much  must  be  done  for  children  of  nine  and 
ten.  As  for  Norah,  well,  she'll  graduate  in  June, 
and  then  she  must  be  helped  to  find  something  to 

help,  too "  Just  for  a  moment  her  heart  failed 

her.  What  a  pity  it  was  to  deprive  Norah  of  her 
chance  of  High  School;  Norah,  the  brilliant,  on 
whose  education  she  had  so  set  her  heart;  Norah, 
who  even  at  twelve,  was  so  anxious,  eager,  to  learn. 
Once  more  the  mother  passed  her  hand  across  her 
face  to  stifle  the  sigh  that  rose,  as  she  told  herself, 
and  the  husband  she  could  not  see,  but  whom  she 
knew  understood,  that  it  could  not  be  helped. 

Old  Mrs.  Craig  rose  and  reached  for  her  bonnet 
that  lay  on  the  center  table. 

"Then  that's  settled,"  she  said,  and  a  deep  breath 
of  content  rose  from  her  voluminous  black-waisted 
chest.  "I  always  say  there's  some  way  out  of 
everything,  if  you  just  talk  it  over  rightly.  I'm  sorry 
I  can't  stay,  but  things  are  all  going  to  pot,  they've 
telephoned  me  from  home,  and  I  guess  I'll  have  to  be 
getting  along." 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  there  was  a  little 
feeling  of  thanksgiving  in  the  heart  of  Evelyn  Grant 
as  she  bade  her  mother  and  uncle  good-by,  and 
turned  back  into  the  familiar  sitting  room,  to  find 


30  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

herself  alone  in  the  home  she  had  known  for  so  many 
happy,  quiet  years  with  the  man  who  had  gone. 

In  the  center  of  the  room  she  stood,  steadying  her- 
self with  one  hand  on  the  center  table,  as  she  gazed 
down  into  the  eyes  of  the  photograph  which  seemed 
to  smile  encouragement  as  they  looked  back  at  her. 
A  prayer  rose  to  her  lips;  a  prayer  for  strength, — 
to  go  through  with  all  that  life  would  require  of  her. 

Through  the  silence,  she  heard  the  sound  of  the 
deep-toned  organ  in  the  church  down  the  street. 
The  choir  was  singing.  She  could  just  make  out  the 
words : 

"  Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee,  oh,  be  not  dismayed, 
For  I  am  thy  God,  and  will  still  give  thee  aid, 
I'll  strengthen  thee,  help  thee,  cause  thee  to  stand, 
Upheld  by  My  righteous,  omnipotent  hand.  ..." 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  A  RE  you  very  much  disappointed,  Norah,  child?" 
/A  Mrs.  Grant  laid  aside  her  sewing  to  look 
"*•  **•  at  Norah  with  sympathy  and  a  motherly 
yearning  that  made  her  use  every  effort  to  keep 
steady  the  voice  that  wanted  to  tremble. 

For  a  moment  the  child  hesitated.  Little  puckers 
in  her  forehead  proved  she  herself  was  fighting  a 
battle  that  was  unusual  for  a  girl  whose  years  had 
reached  but  twelve. 

"A  little — perhaps,  mama,  dear,"  she  finally  said. 
"You  know  I  did  work  hard  to  finish  grammar 
school  this  year  so  I  could  go  to  High, — and,  well, 
maybe  I  can  be  forgiven  for  being  that  tiny  little  bit 
disappointed  now  that  I  must  give  up  school  alto- 
gether— and  my  music  lessons,  too." 

"I'm  so  sorry,  dear, — but  losing  your  father  so 

suddenly — and "  Norah  did  not  fail  to  see  the 

quiver  of  her  mother's  lips,  the  little  tremor  she 
tried  so  valiantly  to  withhold.  "There  have  been  so 
many  unexpected  changes,  and  I — I " 

Impulsively  the  girl  threw  her  arms  about  her 
mother  who  leaned  over  to  run  her  fingers  caressingly 
through  her  daughter's  dark  curls.  One  tear 
trickled,  unbidden,  down  her  cheek.  It  had  been  so 
hard,  this;  this  thing  of  telling  her  child  she  must 
give  up  all  the  things  that  her  young  heart  most  de- 
sired. She  had  so  wanted  Norah  to  have  the  educa- 

31 


32  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

tion  the  girl  herself  craved;  she  was  such  a  bright 
child.  Perhaps  one  of  the  hardest  things  the  mother 
had  had  to  do  since  the  father  had  gone  away  and 
she  had  so  bravely  taken  up  the  burden  of  living  and 
caring  for  her  children  herself  had  been  to  break  the 
news  to  her  eldest  child  that  henceforth  she,  too, 
must  be  one  of  the  bread  winners.  She  had  put  it 
off  till  the  last  moment,  but  at  last  it  had  come.  The 
opportunity  seemed  to  make  itself.  Norah  had  run 
in  from  school  much  earlier  than  the  other  two,  and 
had  dropped  down  on  a  small  footstool  to  talk  to  her 
mother.  There  was  no  one  else  about, — Norah  had 
started  planning  what  she  intended  doing.  Evelyn 
Grant  knew  she  must  at  last  tell  her  what  was  in 
store.  Even  knowing  the  sturdiness  of  her  child's 
character,  she  had  in  a  way  rather  expected  an  out- 
burst of  tears,  and  now  she  waited  while  Norah 
clung  to  her  neck.  But  there  were  no  tears  in  the 
girl's  voice  when  she  spoke.  Her  thought  was  not 
of  herself,  but  of  the  mother  whose  voice  ha'd 
quavered. 

"Oh,  mama,"  she  begged,  "please — please  Hon't 
cry.  Don't  you  worry,  either.  Really,  I  don't  mind 
giving  up  school  at  all;  and  anyway  I  can  study  at 
home.  I'm  no  different  from  anyone  else,  am  I? 
And  isn't  life  supposed  to  be  full  of  disappointments, 
anyway?"  She  spoke  with  all  the  gravity  of  a  phi- 
losopher of  five  times  her  age. 

In  spite  of  herself,  Mrs.  Grant  smiled,  a  bit  rue- 
fully, though,  as  she  burst  out:  "Oh,  Norah,  you 
funny,  funny  little  thing!  Where  in  the  world  did 
you  get  such  ideas  in  your  twelve  little  years?  You 
always  were  a  baby  with  a  woman's  head  on  your 
shoulders,  though,"  she  added  reminiscently,  as 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  33 

there  flashed  through  her  own  head  the  thousand 
quaint  little  sayings  and  doings  of  Norah  during  her 
babyhood,  over  which  she  and  James  had  so  often 
laughed.  "That  was  why,"  and  she  spoke  as  one 
woman  to  another,  "I  felt  so  sure  you'd  see  how 
matters  are,  and  be  willing  to  help  me." 

"Why  of  course!  There  couldn't  be  a  question 
of  anything  else."  The  girl  looked  up  into  her 
mother's  face  with  steady  eyes.  "I'm  twelve, — al- 
most grown  up, — and  I'm  sure  you  and  I  together 
can  easily  take  care  of  Jimmy  and  Susy."  She 
dropped  once  more  to  the  footstool  and  clasped  her 
hands  about  her  knees.  "Go  on  with  your  sewing, 
dear,"  she  recommended.  "I  know  you  can  always 
think  best  when  you're  doing  something.  Let's  talk 
it  all  over,  and  we'll  see  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

And  as  Evelyn  Grant  obeyed,  another  little  smile 
chased  itself  across  her  saddened  countenance,  as 
she  noticed  the  phrase.  It  was  Norah's  initiation 
into  the  art  of  "talking  things  over."  The  child 
snuggled  herself  delightedly.  It  was  wonderful  to 
be  taken  into  her  mother's  confidence,  and  she  made 
up  her  mind  right  there  that  she  would  then  and  for- 
evermore  be  worthy  of  the  trust.  But  even  as  she 
thought,  a  small  pang  or  two  shot  through  her  brave 
young  heart  for  the  music  she  must  forswear.  It 
was  of  this  that  she  spoke  first. 

"Of  course,  I  won't  have  to  give  up  my  music, 
altogether,"  she  said.  "I  can  practice  in  off  times, 
and  I'm  sure  I  shan't  forget  what  I've  learned  from 
Mrs.  Wagner.  Why,  just  think  how  lucky  I've  been 
— so  much  luckier  than  lots  and  lots  of  girls!  Why, 
I've  had  lessons  two  or  three  times  a  week  for  ever 
and  ever  so  long — and  I  have  a  lot  to  work  on " 


34  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Brave  little  heart!  thought  the  mother  as  she 
gathered  herself  together  for  the  needed  talk-fest. 
No  one  knew  better  than  she  what  this  particular 
denial  meant  to  the  small  daughter.  Her  love  of 
music  had  so  often  been  remarked.  It  had  been,  in 
fact,  a  veritable  revelation  to  her  teachers  and 
parents.  Evelyn  Grant,  as  she  considered,  was  re- 
membering how  the  girl  would  spend  all  her  spare 
time  practicing,  sitting  at  the  old  square  piano  for 
hours  at  a  time;  and  of  what  she,  Evelyn,  had  once 
said  to  her  own  mother. 

"It's  the  strangest  thing  in  the  world,"  she  had 
remarked.  "She's  so  little  like  other  children! 
You  can't  make  her  go  out  and  play.  When  she's 
not  helping  me,  she's  either  reading  or  practicing.  I 
can't  understand  where  such  love  of  music  comes 
from.  I  can't  play  a  note,  now  that  I've  forgotten 
'The  Maiden's  Prayer'  and  a  few  such,  and  neither 
can  her  father." 

"I  can  explain  it."  Mrs.  Craig  shook  her  head 
wisely.  "Do  you  remember  that  you  and  James 
never  missed  a  Friday  night  at  the  Tivoli,  or  a 
Sunday  concert  all  through  the  time  Norah  was  com- 
ing? Why,  the  child's  marked " 

"Mother!"  Evelyn  had  laughed.  "I  can't  believe 
in  all  that  old-fashioned  nonsense!  Science  is  prov- 
ing " 

"Don't  care  about  science  or  any  other  doo-dads," 
Mrs.  Craig  had  interrupted,  acidly.  "I  believe  what 
my  eyes  see!  Now,  there  was  Mrs.  Steele — didn't 
I  ever  tell  you  how  she  wanted  strawberries  before 
Ellen  was  born,  and  there  was  Ellen  born  with  a 
strawberry  right  on  her  cheek, — and  there  was  Mrs. 
Whitman  who  wanted " 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  35 

"Yes,  mother,  I  know, — but  that's  all  different, — 
wanting  things  to  eat.  But  it  doesn't  explain  all  the 
other  things  about  Norah, — her  not  wishing  to  play 
with  other  children,  and  being  so  settled,  as  if  she 
were  grown  up." 

Mrs.  Craig  had  nodded  proudly.  "That's 
because  she's  so  much  brighter  than  any  other 
children  of  her  age,"  she  had  announced,  with  the  air 
of  it  being  quite  the  correct  thing,  since  she  was  the 
grandparent  of  the  child  under  discussion.  "She's 
a  regular  little  woman!" 

"A  regular  little  woman!" 

The  words  came  back  to  Evelyn  Grant,  as  she 
sat  there  with  her  sewing,  listening  to  the  eager 
chatter  of  the  daughter  who  was  already  planning 
for  the  future,  as  though  she  had  not  herself  given 
up  that  thing  she  most  desired, — given  it  up  without 
so  much  as  showing  that  it  had  cost  her  anything. 

"Then  what  do  you  think  is  the  best  thing  for  me 
to  do  first?"  Norah  was  asking. 

Mrs.  Grant  stitched  silently  for  a  moment,  and 
broke  off  a  fresh  thread  with  her  teeth  before 
answering, 

"It's  rather  hard  to  decide,  offhand,"  was  her 
answer,  and  from  her  tone  she  might  have  been 
"talking  things  over"  with  her  mother.  "Maybe  I 
can  get  you  a  position  in  a  dressmakers'  establish- 
ment, or  a  milliner's  where  you  can  learn  a  trade;  or 
I  may  be  so  busy  myself  I  can  use  you  right  here 
with  me." 

"I'd  rather  go  into  a  store  of  some  kind, — then 
when  I'm  old  enough,  I  can  go  into  business  for  my- 
self. I  understand  all  about  mathematics — you 
know,  mama,  what  my  report  card  has  always  been."' 


36  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"It  takes  more  than  a  knowledge  of  mathematics 
to  start  in  business,  Norah."  Evelyn  smiled  sadly. 
"For  one  thing,  it  requires  capital." 

"Capital?"  For  a  moment  Norah  was  puzzled. 
"That  means  money,  doesn't  it?"  she  asked,  doubt- 
fully. "Well,  I'll  have  plenty  when  I'm, — well, — say 
about  eighteen " 

"Plenty  of  money?"  It  was  Evelyn's  turn  to 
knit  her  brows.  "I  can't  imagine  from  where." 

"Why,  in  the  bank,  of  course,"  came  the  naive 
reply.  "I  have  the  twenty-five  dollars  Grandmother 
Grant  sent  me  when  I  was  born,  and  ten  dollars  every 
year  after  that  for  my  birthday — let  me  see,"  the 
small  hand  pressed  to  the  head,  aided  the  calcula- 
tion, the  rapid,  mental  calculation,  "ten  dollars  for 
eleven  years,  added  to  twenty-five, — that's  a  hundred 
and  thirty-five  already!  By  the  time  I'm  eighteen 
there'll  be  sixty  dollars  more — why,  mama,  I'll  have 
enough  money  to  start  a  store  almost  as  large  as  the 
Emporium,  I'm  sure!" 

For  the  first  time  in  over  a  month,  Evelyn  Grant 
laughed  aloud.  "Well,  Norah,"  she  declared,  "I'll 
have  to  admit  you're  not  lacking  in  ambition.  But 
there'll  be  plenty  of  time  to  discuss  these  things  later 
on.  You'd  better  run  into  the  kitchen  now,  and 
start  peeling  the  potatoes  for  supper.  Susy  and 
Jimmie'll  be  mighty  hungry  when  they  come  in  soon." 

Norah  got  to  her  feet  and  started  obediently  for 
the  kitchen  door.  Then  she  stopped;  turned.  There 
was  a  maternal  light  in  her  young  eyes  as  she  ran 
suddenly  to  the  huddled-up  mother  who  sat, 
monotonously  pushing  in  and  out  a  needle  through  the 
goods  that  was  to  become  a  garment  for  a  stranger. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  37 

Affectionately  the  child  threw  her  arms  about  the 
mother's  neck. 

"Oh,  mama,  dear!"  she  breathed,  as  she  planted 
a  resounding  smack  on  the  tired  cheek.  "I  wish, — 
oh,  how  I  wish  I  was  older, — really  grown  up !  But 
just  you  wait!  I  will  be,  and  then  I'll  take  care  of 
you  all, — you  and  Jimmie  and  Susan, — grandma, 
too!" 

Mrs.  Grant  held  her  little  daughter  off  from  her 
a  moment  as  she  gazed  seriously  into  her  eyes. 

"I  believe  you  will!"  she  declared  solemnly. 

Evelyn  Grant  had  never  been  an  over  affectionate 
or  emotional  woman,  butx^s  she  looked  at  the  small 
girl  standing  before  her,  voicing  her  determination 
so  confidently  and  bravely,  she  was  conscious  of  a 
sudden  rush  of  mother-love  surging  through  her 
being  for  this,  her  first  born. 

When,  later,  Norah  crawled  into  bed  beside  the 
sleeping  Susan,  it  was  some  time  before  she  fell 
asleep.  She  was  thinking  over  all  she  and  her 
mother  had  talked  about  that  afternoon  in  the 
twilight  that  made  it  necessary  for  the  mother  to 
stop  her  sewing  as  she  had  talked.  The  idea  of 
dressmaking  or  millinery  did  not  wake  the  tiniest 
spark  of  enthusiasm  within  her.  A  store,  or  busi- 
ness,— those  were  different!  Yes,  that  would  be  the 
solution,  was  her  conclusion  as  her  eyes  closed 
drowsily.  She  would  go  into  business,  and  she  would 
have  cards  printed  like  Mrs.  Wagner, — only  instead 
of  having  them  read:  "Annie  Wagner,  Teacher  of 
Piano,"  they  would  read,  "Norah  Grant — Business 
Woman." 

Evelyn  Grant  had  begun  sewing  as  soon  as  her 
resolution  was  made.  She  had  taken  her  first  step 


38  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

when  she  had  had  inserted  in  the  Chronicle  and 
Examiner  her  advertisements.  Now  newly  painted 
signs  were  hung  in  the  bay  window  of  the  parlor.  It 
was  not  long  before  she  had  all  the  work  she  could 
do,  but  she  found  it  impossible  to  get  along  on  those 
small  earnings.  An  unknown  dressmaker  in  the 
Mission  could  build  up  a  trade  only  by  working 
reasonably.  So  the  most  that  she  could  ask  for  a 
dress, — and  then  it  had  to  be  fancy, — was  ten 
dollars.  If  she  engaged  anyone  to  help  her,  it  ate  up 
half  the  profits,  so  she  tried  to  do  all  the  work  alone, 
sewing  from  early  morning  until  late  at  night, 
crowding  her  other  duties  in  between,  endangering 
her  vitality  and  her  eyes. 

To  Norah,  after  her  graduation,  fell  the  work  of 
the  household  and  the  cooking.  That  left  Mrs. 
Grant  free  to  devote  all  her  time  to  her  work,  a 
grateful  relief,  but  even  then,  she  found  it  necessary 
to  delve  into  her  twelve  hundred  dollars.  She  had 
put  away  that  money,  too,  determined  it  should  re- 
main as  a  safeguard.  Each  time  she  drew  out  even 
a  small  amount,  her  heart  sank.  What  if  she  were 
to  become  ill,  and  that  money  become  their  only 
means  of  support?  So  short  a  time  it  would  last,  and 
then What  would  become  of  them? 

One  afternoon,  just  after  she  had  finished  fitting  a 
particular  fussy  customer,  Norah  burst  into  the 
room,  her  cheeks  rosy,  her  eyes  brilliant  with  excite- 
ment. 

"Oh,  mama,  I've  something  to  tell  you !"  she 
panted.  "Are  you  too  busy,  or  will  you  listen  to 
me?" 

"Well,  Norah,  what  is  it?"  Mrs.  Grant  dropped 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  39 

her  work  and  sat  down.  "It  will  be  good  to  rest  a 
minute,  anyway,  child." 

"Well,  Gladys  Parsons,  who  works  around  the 
corner  in  Taylor's  candy  store,  is  going  to  be  mar- 
ried on  the  first  of  the  month,  and  Mrs.  Taylor 
wants  me  to  take  her  place.  She'll  pay  me  six  dollars 
to  begin.  It's  from  nine  in  the  morning  till  six,  with 
an  hour  for  lunch,  and  every  Sunday  off.  I'll  have  to 
work  Saturday  nights,  but  that's " 

"I  can't  see  how  it  will  be  possible  for  you  to  go," 
her  mother  interrupted.  "I  could  never  get  along 
without  someone  to  do  the  work,  and  if  I  have  to 
take  in  an  extra  person  tq  pay  and  feed — I  can't  see 
the  advantage  of  having  y6u  away  from  home." 

"Oh,  dear,  I  never  thought  of  that!"  Norah  was 
close  to  tears.  For  the  moment  she  thought  hard, 
then  added  eagerly:  "Couldn't  I  do  most  of  the  work 
before  I  leave  in  the  morning?  I  don't  have  to  be 
there  until  after  nine,  and  it's  just  around  the  corner. 
I  could  help  a  little  at  noon,  too, — and  I  should  think 
Susy  could  do  something  after  school, — she's  past 
ten." 

"You  know  Susan  is  not  a  bit  like  you,  dear,"  her 
mother  answered  gravely,  " — she  is  such  a  baby. 
When  do  you  have  to  let  Mrs.  Taylor  know?" 

"She  said  she  would  like  to  know  positively  by  the 
twentieth,  so  that  she  can  get  someone  for  Gladys  to 
break  in.  Oh,  mama,  can't  you  think  of  some  way 
for  me  to  go  ?  I  do  so  want  to  help  you !" 

"Why,  you're  helping  me  all  the  time,  Norah!  I 
'don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  without  my 
little  woman,"  the  mother  answered  tenderly. 

"But  I  should  like  to  earn  some  money  and  help 


40  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

you  that  way.  Then  you  wouldn't  have  to  sit  up  so 
late  at  nights,  and  cry  every  time  you  draw  money  out 
of  the  bank." 

"Sweet  child,"  whispered  Mrs.  Grant  as  she 
stooped  to  kiss  her  daughter.  "I'll  think  about  it, 
and  we'll  see  what  we  can  do." 

The  problem  was  answered  in  a  few  days. 
Evelyn's  grandmother,  who  was  past  eighty,  died 
suddenly,  and  that  left  Mrs.  Craig,  Evelyn's  mother, 
alone  as  old  Samuel  had  gone  on  two  years  before. 
Her  two  sons  each  offered  her  a  home  with 
them,  but  she  declined  with  thanks.  She  had  never 
had  much  in  common  with  either  of  her  daughters- 
in-law,  and  besides  she  felt  independent  enough  to 
choose  her  own  home.  Her  income,  derived  from 
the  rental  of  her  cherry  orchard,  was  small,  but 
nevertheless  enough  to  supply  her  meagre  wants. 
Now  that  her  mother  was  gone,  she  had  a  chance  to 
rent  her  cottage,  too,  and  to  go  to  live  with  Evelyn. 

It  was  a  splendid  arrangement  in  every  way. 
Evelyn  had  always  been  devoted  to  her  mother,  and, 
had  she  possessed  but  one  room,  that  room  she  would 
have  willingly  shared  with  that  mother.  And  never 
was  Mrs.  Craig  so  happy  as  when  with  Evelyn  and 
her  children.  They  talked  it  all  over,  and  there  was 
joy  in  all  the  family,  as  they  considered  their  re- 
sources. 

"There's  the  rent  from  the  ranch,"  announced 
Mrs.  Craig,  "that'll  help  eke  out 

"But,  mother!"  Evelyn  Grant  was  demurring. 
"That  is  yours, — we  can't  take  it " 

The  tightening  of  her  mother's  lips  was  familiar 
to  her.  It  was  meant  to  convey,  always  did  convey, 
that  Mrs.  Craig's  mind  was  made  up ;  that  there  was 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  41 

no  changing  it.  Evelyn  bowed  to  the  mandate,  not 
ungladly.  She  was  getting  very  tired.  Still,  in  the 
final  adjustment,  she  had  one  word. 

"You'll  be  doing  enough  to  do  the  cooking  and 
'tending  house,  I  should  think,"  was  her  final 
remonstrance  to  which  the  grandmother  put  a  stop. 

"If  you'll  take  my  advice,"  she  said,  "this  family 
will  be  pooling  all  they  can  get  and  let  it  go  for  the 
common  good." 

A  bit  of  advice  adhered  to  for  a  long  time  to  come, 
but,  when  once  discarded,  it  was  not  Norah  who 
listened  so  eagerly  when  she  had  first  heard  it,  to 
give  it  up. 

To  her  the  greatest  thing  about  her  grandmother's 
advent  into  the  home  was  the  fact  that  it  meant  she 
could  go  to  work  in  the  candy  store. 

Norah  Grant,  through  whatever  triumphs  she 
knew  in  after  years,  never  forgot  the  thrill  of  her 
first  Saturday  night  as  a  wage  earner.  Those  six 
great  big  silver  dollars.  Were  there  ever  any  so 
enticing!  With  such  wonderful  potentialities? 
Even  as  she  received  them,  it  was  not  so  much  the 
money  they  meant  as  the  reward  for  achievement. 
Norah  was  never  quite  certain  when  there  came  to 
her  the  ambition  to  be  a  success  in  the  business  world. 
Perhaps  some  of  it  had  come  that  night  she  lay  so 
wide-awake  beside  her  sleeping  sister,  and  dreamed 
a  vision.  More  probably,  however,  it  was  when 
those  great,  round  dollars  were  handed  to  her  from 
the  little  tin  box  under  the  Taylor's  candy  store 
counter, — and  she  knew  she  had  earned  them. 

With  dancing  eagerness,  she  gave  them  to  her 
mother  when  Evelyn  came  for  her.  It  was  the 
initiation  of  a  ceremony  that  was  to  continue  for  a 


42  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

long,  long  time  as  far  as  Norah  was  concerned,  for 
Norah  Grant  never  faltered  in  giving  her  mother  her 
earnings  every  Saturday  night  from  that  first  night 
in  the  candy  store. 

At  home,  everything  was  gay.  It  was  a  sort  of 
celebration  of  her  entry  into  business,  from  which  the 
child  returned  after  her  first  week's  work. 

A  warm  sweet  odor  drifted  through  the  rooms 
when  the  door  was  opened.  Norah  sniffed  eagerly. 

"Cookies!"  she  cried,  jubilantly.  "Grandma's 
sugar  cookies!" 

Then,  Jimmie  and  Susan,  who  had  been  allowed  to 
stay  up  for  the  feast,  were  dancing  around  her. 

"And  cocoa !"  cried  Susan. 

"Jelly  roll,  too!"  was  Jimmie's  addition.  He 
(didn't  want  his  own  particular  favorite  overlooked. 

Norah's  heart  jumped  with  joy  and  pride.  Oh, 
it  was  so  good  to  be  loved  and  appreciated!  She, 
too,  danced  about  the  room,  hugging  and  kissing 
each  in  turn. 

"Oh,  I  love  you!"  she  cried  jubilantly.  "I  love 
you  all  so!  And  some  day  I'm  going  to  show  you!" 

Norah  had  been  working  for  the  Taylors  for 
three  years,  while  things  went  along  rather  more  in 
the  old  routine  manner  than  Evelyn  Grant  had  ever 
supposed  they  would  again,  when  the  first  change 
came.  The  girl  came  home  earlier  than  usual  one 
night  to  find  her  mother  busy  cutting  out  a  new 
dress,  using  the  old  square  piano  as  a  cutting  table. 
Norah's  inward  smile  was  a  little  wistful  as  she 
noticed  it,  and  she  bent  down  ostensibly  to  pick  up  a 
spool  of  thread  that  was  unwinding  itself  across  the 
cluttered-up  floor;  in  reality  to  hide  what  she 
imagined  her  eyes  might  show  as  she  looked  at  the 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  43 

piano.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  she  had  had  a 
chance  to  practice,  in  spite  of  her  determination  to 
keep  up  her  music.  From  the  kitchen  she  could  hear 
her  grandmother  wailing  an  old  hymn  as  she  pre- 
pared supper,  but  as  soon  as  the  old  lady  heard  the 
girl's  voice,  she  came  in  hurriedly,  wiping  her  hands 
on  her  huge  gingham  apron. 

"Anything  wrong,  Norah?"  she  asked,  tipping  her 
glasses  with  a  familiar  gesture.  "How'd  you  come 
to  be  so  early?" 

Norah  crossed  the  room  to  drop  onto  the  sofa 
from  which  she  pushed  a  pile  of  silks  and  linings  to 
make  room  for  herself. 

"Nothing  special,"  she  nodded,  "or  at  least  there 
won't  be  long.  But  right  now,  I'm  out  of  a 
job f 

Mrs.  Grant  looked  up  from  her  cutting,  startled, 
apprehensive.  Things  had  been  going  on  so 
nicely 

But  before  she  could  frame  the  remonstrance  ori 
her  lips,  her  daughter  hurried  on. 

"Mr.  Taylor  has  been  ill  a  long  time,  as  you 
know,"  she  explained,  "and  they've  decided  to  go  to 
San  Diego  for  his  health.  They  even  wanted  to  take 
me  with  them,  but,"  and  she  threw  a  kiss  in  the 
directions  of  her  mother  and  grandmother,  "I 
thanked  them  kindly  and  said  I  couldn't  possibly 
leave  those  I  love  the  best  in  the  world " 

"But — what,"  began  her  mother,  her  brow 
wrinkled,  "what — your  money  has  helped  so " 

"And  will,"  declared  the  daughter  with  the  firm- 
ness of  a  woman  instead  of  the  child  of  fifteen  she 
was.  "I've  been  thinking,  so  I  came  home  early  to 
talk  it  over  with  you  both.  I'm  going  to  business 


44  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

school.  No,  mother,  wait  a  minute,"  she  begged, 
with  uplifted  hand  as  Evelyn's  mouth  opened  to  pro- 
test. "I  know  money's  hard  to  get,  and  you  can't 
afford  it, — but  I  can !"  Her  voice  held  pride  as  she 
made  the  proclamation.  "Have  you  forgotten  my 
fortune  from  Grandmother  Grant?  Now,  why 
can't  I  take  seventy-five  dollars  of  that  money  and  go 
to  Heald's?  They  guarantee  you  a  position  when 
you've  completed  the  course.  Why,  Mabel  Bland 
graduated  there  only  two  months  ago,  and  already 
she's  getting  eighteen  dollars  a  week!"  She 
stopped  for  the  wonder  of  it  to  sink  in,  and  only  the. 
snip-snip  of  her  mother's  scissors,  busy  from  habit, 
broke  the  stillness.  "Eighteen  dollars!  Just 
think!"  She  jumped  from  her  seat  to  run  to  her 
mother,  upsetting  the  tissue  paper  pattern  that  had 
been  laid  so  carefully  on  the  faded  magenta  cover 
with  its  yellow  machine  embroidered  edge,  of  the  old 
piano.  Her  arms  went  about  her  mother. 

"Oh,  I  know,  dear,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  know  it 
will  be  hard  to  do  without  my  earnings  for  six 
months, — but  if  you  can  only  manage  somehow,  I 
know  it  will  be  well  worth  it  in  the  end!" 

Evelyn  Grant  smiled  indulgently.  Norah  was 
right,  as  usual,  a  matter  she  was  fast  coming  to 
know.  And  Norah  read  her  answer  in  the  tighten- 
ing of  her  arms  about  her.  She  turned  to  the  older 
woman. 

"And  you,  too,  grandma?"  she  asked.  "What  'do 
you  think — what " 

"That  you're  a  fine  little  girl,  Norah", — but  you 
should  have  been  a  boy!" 


CHAPTER  V 

ALONG  time  afterward,  Norah  Grant  recalled 
those  words  of  her  grandmother:  "You 
should  have  been  a  boy!" 

They  came  to  her  often  as  she  watched  her  busy, 
intelligent,  efficient  business  sisters  in  the  mad  rush 
of  the  busy  day.  She  compared  them  so  often  with 
the  men  she  met  or  watched,  too.  A  queer  little 
smile  would  flit  across  Ker  face  as  she  thought. 
Grandma  had  so  meant  to  compliment.  In  grandma's 
day,  no  doubt,  though,  a  woman  in  business  had  been 
as  unusual  as  a  hen  that  crowed, — and  about  as 
laughable  or  as  reprehensible  as  one  looked  at  it. 
What  was  that  little  jingle  grandma  used  so  often 
to  say  so  long  ago  ?  Oh,  yes : 

"  A  whistling  girl  and  a  crowing  hen, 
Never  come  to   any  good  end.  " 

Norah  knew  that  she,  personally,  had  never  felt 
much  inclination  to  whistle,  but  she  had  no  doubt 
that  women  of  that  generation  before  her  own  or 
her  mother's  would  be  quite  as  aghast  at  her  for 
daring  to  ascend  the  heights  of  that  mysterious  realm 
of  business  she  had  as  if  she  had  whistled  all  day, — 
or  crowed,  either,  for  that  matter. 

She  looked  about  her  neat  little  private  office  with 
its  typewriter  desk  beside  the  flat-topped  one;  at  the 
cool  green  rug  on  her  floor,  and  the  few  prints  on 

45 


46  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

the  walls;  felt  of  the  leather  cushions  on  her  type- 
writer chair;  and  breathed  a  sigh  of  contentment. 
Yes,  this  was  something  like !  She  was  getting  some- 
where. And  because  she  wanted  to, — more  than 
anything  else  in  the  world,  aside  from  providing  for 
her  mother's  comfort. 

She  had  not  always  been  so  nicely  situated,  though. 
Her  heart  compensated  her  when  she  realized  that 
she  had  worked  up  to  this;  worked  with  her  mind, 
her  soul,  her  strength. 

Two  weeks  after  her  graduation  from  business 
college,  Norah  Grant  began  her  business  life  with  the 
law  firm  of  Carew  &  Carew,  sent  to  them  from  the 
college.  They  had  recommended  her  when  Carew 
&  Carew  had  asked  for  the  best  stenographer  pro- 
curable, but  when  she  had  come  timidly  into  the 
office,  looking  even  younger  than  her  fifteen  and  a 
half  years  in  her  little  blue  gown,  her  sailor  collar 
and  tarn,  the  senior  member  of  the  firm  had  at  first 
eyed  her  with  none  too  great  sympathy. 

"You're  young,  Miss  Grant,"  he  said, 
-about ?" 

"Almost  sixteen,"  Norah  informed  him,  but  in 
her  eagerness  for  a  trial  she  added  quickly  before 
he  had  a  chance  to  refuse  her:  "But  I  am  a  business 
woman,  and  if  you'll  try  me,  sir " 

Mr.  Carew  was  always  fond  of  telling  his  friends 
afterward  how  he  once  obtained  the  best  stenog- 
rapher he  ever  had  because  she  made  him  laugh. 
Norah's  words  were  serious,  but  it  was  her  childish 
appearance  that  made  him  chuckle  at  them  till  his 
sides  ached,  and  he  pushed  a  chair  forward  to  her 
and  told  her  to  try  her  hand  at  dictation.  And  when 
she  had  finished  the  trial  letter,  he  looked  down  at 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  47 

her  over  the  top  of  his  glasses, — a  trick  that  so  re- 
minded Norah  of  her  own  grandmother  that  she 
felt  at  home  with  him  at  once,  and  told  her: 

"Fifteen  dollars  a  week  to  start,  young  lady — 
you'll  get  more,  if  you  prove  as  efficient  as  your 
promise  shows." 

Norah  could  hardly  wait  until  she  reached  home 
to  tell  her  mother  and  grandmother.  She  burst  into 
the  front  room  where  Mrs.  Grant  was  busy  with 
her  eternal  cutting  up  large  pieces  of  material  into 
small  ones,  for  the  distinct  purpose  of  sewing  them 
together  again,  with  a  breeziness  that  sent  tissue 
paper  patterns  flying  across  the  room. 

"Mama!"  she  cried.  "It's  all  right!  He — he  hired 
me — and  pretty  soon  you  won't  have  to  work  at  all!" 

She  stopped  breathlessly  to  pick  up  the  fluttering 
patterns,  as  Grandma  Craig  hurried  in  to  see  what  in 
the  world  had  disrupted  the  quiet  of  the  sewing 
room.  Half  slouching  in  behind  the  old  lady,  still 
munching  the  half  eaten  sandwich  she  had  picked 
up  as  soon  as  she  had  reached  home  after  school, 
came  a  tall,  scrawny,  awkward  girl  of  fourteen  who 
eyed  the  enthusiastic  young  business  woman  with  a 
hint  of  superciliousness  as  she  doubled  her  long  legs 
under  her  as  she  dropped  down  on  the  couch. 
Norah  hailed  her. 

"Just  in  time,  Susy,"  she  cried,  exuberantly,  "your 
case  is  first  on  the  docket!"  She  turned  to  her  mother 
with  a  sobering  of  manner.  "I'd  like  Susy  to  go  to 
High  School,  mama, — don't  you  think  you  and  I  can 
manage  it,  now?" 

Mrs.  Grant  removed  the  pins  from  her  mouth  as 
she  glanced  speculatively  from  one  daughter  to  the 
other.  With  the  keen  eyes  of  motherhood  she  ap- 


48  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

praised  them  both;  Norah,  eager,  anxious  to  work, 
to  help;  Norah  with  her  dazzling  white  skin,  her 
dark  curls,  the  peach  blow  on  the  downy  cheek  that 
was  changing  from  the  roundness  of  childhood  to  the 
beauty  of  faultless  young  maidenhood;  Norah  with 
her  intelligence  that  not  even  a  casual  observer  could 
deny.  And  Susan;  Susan,  tall,  awkward,  a  little 
pimply;  with  no  promise  of  good  looks  to  come;  with 
no  unusual  display  of  intelligence  in  the  eyes  that 
showed  more  of  querulousness,  discontent,  and  (it 
must  be  admitted,  selfishness)  than  any  of  the  quali- 
ties that  made  the  elder  sister  noticeable  in  a  throng. 
And  Evelyn  Grant's  mother  heart  beat  a  little  faster 
as  she  was  bound  to  acknowledge  this  difference  in 
the  two  daughters  to  whom  she  had  given  birth. 
Then,  as  her  glance  roved  she  spoke  : 

"Yes,"  hesitantly,  "I  suppose  we  can,  Norah,  but 
somehow  it  doesn't  seem  exactly  fair  to  me — you 
went  to  work  when  you  finished  grammar  school,  so 
why  can't  Susan " 

The  young  person  in  question  yawned  boredly  as 
she  tossed  the  crust  of  her  sandwich  toward  a  scrap- 
filled  basket. 

"If  you're  trying  to  say  it's  up  to  me,"  she  de- 
clared, "I'd  rather  go  to  work.  I'm  not  crazy  about 
school." 

Norah  frowned.  "Better  go  if  you  have  a  chance, 
Susy,"  she  advised.  "You'll  find  out  what  an 
education's  good  for  when  you  take  up  a  business 
training." 

Susan's  already  tiptilted  nose  went  higher  in  the 
air,  and  her  head  tossed  defiantly.  "Who  says  I'm 
going  to  take  up  a  business  training?"  she  wanted  to 
know.  "Just  because  you  can't  think  of  anything 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  49 

else,  Norah  Grant,  is  no  reason  I  should  have  the 
same  ideas.  I'm  not  particular  about  going  to  work, 
either.  I  think  I'd  just  like  to  help  mama  around 
the  house  awhile,  then,  just  as  soon  as  I'm  old 
enough,  I'll  find  some  nice  fellow  and  marry  him." 

''Susan!" 

The  exclamation  came  simultaneously  from  the 
mother  and  older  sister,  but  the  tone  of  reprimand 
was  heeded  not  in  the  least  by  the  young  lady  who 
spoke. 

"Well,  I  will!"  she  insisted,  sullenly.  'Think 
I'm  going  to  be  shut  up  in  a  dusty  old  office,  or  be- 
hind a  counter  all  day  until  I'm  an  old  maid  and  no- 
body will  have  me?  That  will  happen  to  you, 
Norah, — you  see  if  it  don't!" 

"That's  exactly  what  I  want  to  happen!"  Norah 
flared  up.  "I  don't  ever  intend  to  marry !  I'm  going 
to  be  a  business  woman,  and  make  a  lot  of  money, 
and  then  I'll  take  you  all  and  travel  all  over  the 
world  and  see  everything.  Catch  me  asking  any  man 
where  I  shall  go,  or  how  much  I  shall  spend!  I'm 
going  to  be  entirely  independent!" 

"But,  Norah,"  Mrs.  Grant  was  a  little  alarmed 
at  the  outburst.  "I  don't  think,  young  as  you  are, 
that  that's  the  right  way  to  feel.  There  is  such  a 
thing,  dear,  as  carrying  all  things  to  extremes.  It 
is  the  rightful  mission  in  life  of  every  woman  to 
marry  some  time  and  have  a  home  and  family." 

"Oh,  I'll  have  a  home!"  Norah  tossed  her  head 
with  a  defiant  gesture,  nonchalant,  as  she  answered. 
"When  I've  money  enough  I'll  have  half  a  dozen 
children,  if  you  like,  mama, — cute  little  children, — 
because  I  love  them,  but  I  won't  have  a  husband. 
He'd  only  be  a  nuisance,  and  I  don't  see  any  necessity 


50  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

for  bothering  with  him Besides,  I  prefer  sup- 
porting my  children  myself." 

"Norah!"  Evelyn  fairly  shrieked  her  reproof. 
"Ycu  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about!  I — 

I "  She  was  at  a  loss  for  words.  "I'll,"  she 

choked,  " — have  a  serious  talk  with  you  to-night, — 
after  the  other  children  are  in  bed." 

"I — I'm  sorry,  mama,"  Norah  was  sincerely 
puzzled,  "if  I  said  anything  to  offend  you — I  didn't 
mean  to — I " 

"There,  there,  dear!"  Affectionately  the  mother's 
arm  slipped  around  her.  "It  wasn't  your  fault  at  all. 
I've  stood  so  still  all  these  years,  I  seem  to  have  for- 
gotten my  little  girl  is  almost  a  woman.  You  see, 
you've  always  been  such  a  reliable,  dependable  little 
person — so  far  advanced  for  your  years  in  most 
things  that  I  seem  to  have  taken  everything  con- 
cerned with  you  for  granted." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  it's  all  about," 
said  Susan,  as  she  bit  into  a  cookie  she  took  from 
her  pocket,  "but  I  think  mama's  right, — and  you  can 
be  an  old  maid  if  you  want  to,  Norah  Grant,  but  I 
won't!  So  there!" 

Susan  did  not  go  to  High  School.  Her  lack  of  en- 
thusiasm forced  the  family  to  the  realization  of  how 
foolish  it  would  be  to  send  her  against  her  will;  she 
would  only  idle  away  her  time  at  an  expense  and 
sacrifice  to  her  mother  and  sister. 

Instead,  through  a  customer  of  Mrs.  Grant's,  she 
went  to  work  in  a  small  beauty  parlor  on  Mission 
street,  near  Twenty-second.  She  was  to  learn  every 
branch  of  the  trade,  sweep  out  the  place,  straighten 
the  booths,  gather  the  linens,  and  make  herself 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  51 

generally  useful  in  return  for  her  tuition  and  five 
dollars  a  week. 

Mrs.  Grant  was  pleased,  for  she  could  see  just 
how  Susan  would  be  able  to  command  a  good  salary 
after  she  became  proficient.  Susan,  herself,  was  de- 
lighted. She  liked, — immensely, — the  idea  of 
watching  the  women  come  in  to  be  "dolled  up"  as  she 
soon  called  it.  The  entire  atmosphere  of  it  appealed 
strongly  to  something  within  her  that  had  not  had 
time  to  develop. 

Even  Norah,  who  had  at  first  objected  most 
strenuously  to  the  idea  of  Susan  in  a  beauty  parlor, 
had  to  admit  that  Susan  was  not  slow  to  develop  in 
her  own  particular  line,  for  at  the  end  of  three  years 
during  which  many  changes  had  occurred  in  the  Capp 
Street  flat,  including  the  death  of  Grandma  Craig, 
Susan  had  reached  the  height  of  her  own  ambitions 
as  far  as  outward  appearance  was  concerned. 

"She's  the  most  sought  after  manicurist  in  the  La 
Rose  shop,"  Mrs.  Grant  proudly  told  her  sewing  room 
assistant  one  day.  "Regular  customers  every  day 
and  Madame  Cassidy  thinks  there  is  no  one  like  her." 

"Yes  indeed,"  agreed  the  assistant, — she  had  not 
been  there  a  long  time  since  she  had  been  but  recently 
engaged  by  Norah  to  help  her  mother  after  the 
grandmother's  death,  and  she  knew  well  enough  that 
she  was  not  needed  so  much  as  a  dressmaker's  assis- 
tant as  someone  in  whom  Mrs.  Grant  could  confide. 
Poor  Evelyn  Grant!  Her  mother's  passing  had 
made  so  little  difference  to  anyone  but  her,  but  she 
had  not  accustomed  herself  to  doing  without  some 
one  to  "talk  things  over  with."  "Yes,  indeed,"  re- 
peated the  assistant,  "I  should  imagine  so."  But 


52  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

there  was  a  queer  light  in  her  eyes  as  they  wandered 
toward  the  door  through  which  Susan  had  just 
flounced;  an  entirely  different  Susan  from  three  years 
before;  a  Susan  who  had  grown  tall  and  slender; 
whose  hair  had  been  touched  to  a  beautiful  deep 
gold;  whose  large  blue  eyes  held  a  languid  and 
dreamy  expression,  copied  and  practiced  continually 
in  imitation  of  Miss  Florence  Ayres,  the  popular 
young  leading  woman  of  the  Mission  Stock  Company 
who  was  one  of  her  best  customers.  And  back  in 
the  little  assistant's  head  as  she  bent  over  her  sewing 
was  a  comment  on  the  girl  who  had  just  left  the 
room. 

"A  wonderful  advertisement  for  La  Rose  powder 
and  rouge,"  was  that  unspoken  comment. 

There  were  others  who  might  have  thought  the 
same,  but  it  was  not  for  these  that  Susan  had  under- 
gone her  transformation.  Indeed,  in  the  eyes  of 
many,  she  was  quite  as  attractive  a  girl  at  seventeen 
as  she  had  been  unattractive  at  fourteen.  Susan  was 
aware  of  the  fact.  It  was  brought  home  to  her  by 
the  admiring  glances  of  men  wherever  she  went. 

Mrs.  Grant  was  rambling  on,  in  the  way  the  new 
assistant  was  becoming  used  to. 

"Yes,"  she  agreed  with  herself,  "I  can  say  I'm 
lucky  in  my  children,  far  luckier  than  most  mothers. 
There's  Jimmie  now.  Sixteen, — tall  and  well  built 

for  his  age,  and  thinks  just  like  Norah "  She 

stopped  to  thread  a  new  needle,  a  performance  that 
was  becoming  more  and  more  difficult  as  the  days 
went  by,  and  a  fact,  too,  that  had  escaped  the  eyes 
of  all  except  that  watchful  young  person  of  whom 
she  last  spoke.  "He's  going  to  be  an  electrician — 
getting  along  fine  and  being  paid  while  he  learns. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  53 

But  Norah!"  Mrs.  Grant  paused,  and  even  the 
watchful  little  seamstress  could  know  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on  in  the  mind  of  the  mother  as  she 
tenderly  spoke  the  name  of  her  firstborn. 

There  was  a  sort  of  awe  in  the  mother's  heart 
when  she  even  thought  of  the  girl.  To  her  she  was 
an  enigma.  How  had  she  come  about?  How  had 
this  wonderful  young  creature  come  to  be  her 
daughter?  Her  head  shook  as  she  pondered  the 
problem  as  she  had  so  many  times  before. 

As  a  girl,  Evelyn  Craig  had  been  pretty;  but  only 
fairly  so,  she  was  forced  to  admit  herself.  She  never 
could  have  been  rated  \as  beautiful.  And  James 
Grant,  notwithstanding  how  much  she  loved  him,  or 
how  she  now  revered  his  memory,  she  knew  in  her 
inmost  heart  could  never  have  laid  the  least  claim 
to  being  handsome.  Where,  then,  had  come  this 
beauty  that  was  Norah' s — her  sapphire  eyes,  her 
oval  face  and  patrician  nose;  the  flawless  complexion 
that  could  vie  with  any  rose  that  grew  against  the 
garden  walls  in  the  garden  spots  of  her  own  native 
California?  Others  than  her  mother  knew  that 
Norah  Grant  was  a  beauty,  but  they  knew,  too,  as 
she  did,  that  it  was  a  matter  that  was  the  least  im- 
portant of  any  in  the  girl's  scheme  of  things.  So  it 
was  not  of  Norah's  beauty  that  her  mother  spoke  to 
the  seamstress  who  had  been  brought  to  help  that 
mother  when  Norah  had  also  employed  a  woman  to 
cook,  after  her  grandmother  had  gone  away. 

"She  went  to  work  for  Carew  &  Carew  (you  know 
them,  don't  you — one  of  the  best  known  law  firms  in 
the  city)  when  she  was  sixteen,  and  now  when 
she's  only  nineteen,  she's  private  secretary  to  Albert 
Carew  himself,"  she  went  on,  and  stopping  long 


54  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

enough  to  bite  off  one  of  her  eternal  threads,  she 
ended  proudly,  "getting  thirty-five  dollars  a  week, 
too,  and " 

Probably  the  little  seamstress  never  guessed  it, 
but  it  was  in  all  likelihood  as  much  her  own  humble 
self  to  whom  Evelyn  Grant  had  become  accustomed 
to  "talking  things  over"  with  as  much  as  to  any  other 
reason  that  Norah's  mother  rebelled  when  that 
efficient  young  lady  made  up  her  mind  that  there  had 
been  enough  dressmaking  in  the  Grant  family, — at 
least  by  the  mother. 

It  happened  that  very  evening,  at  the  supper  table. 
Mrs.  Grant  was  not  feeling  any  too  cheerful,  any- 
how. She  was  barely  picking  at  her  codfish  cakes 
with  something  of  distaste.  Not  that  she  didn't  like 
them.  The  woman  Norah  had  engaged  to  cook  was 
a  good  cook,  and  the  dish  was  savory,  but  it  was 
Thursday  night,  and  never  could  she  remember  that 
they  had  ever  had  codfish  cakes  on  Thursday  night 
before.  It  was  the  night  for  the  cold  sliced  roast, 
and  a  salad  ought  to  be  with  it.  She  was  thinking  of 
the  old  days.  Norah's  voice,  sprightly  as  it  was, 
seemed  to  come  to  her  out  of  the  distance. 

"And  I  mean  it,  mama,"  Norah  was  saying.  "I 
just  won't  allow  you  to  work  any  longer!  You're 
tired,  even  if  you  say  you're  not,  and  I  can  see  you're 
even  getting  worn  looking.  Why,  I  wonder  if  you 
realize  it, — you  haven't  had  a  day's  rest  since  papa 
died, — and  that's  seven  years!" 

Seven  years!  Could  it  be  so  long?  Or  wasn't  it 
longer?  Evelyn  Grant  couldn't  just  think.  It  was 
getting  so  hard  to  think  about  things  anyhow.  But 
she  summoned  up  spirit  to  answer. 

"But  I  don't  mind,  Norah,"  she  declared  bravely, 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  55 

"especially  now  that  I  have  Ellen  to  do  the  work 
and  Annie  to  help  with  the  sewing!" 

"Just  the  same,  there's  a  lot  of  worry  and  respon- 
sibility attached  to  it  all,  and  you  don't  have  to  do  it. 
You've  taken  care  of  us  long  enough  and  now  it's 
time  for  us  to  look  after  you." 

"Why,  Norah,  dear!"  The  mother's  tone  was 
surprised,  as  it  was  so  often  as  she  spoke  to  this 
enigmatical  daughter  of  hers.  "You've  always  done 
as  much,  or  more  than  I  have !  Why,  ever  since  you 
first  went  to  work  you've  given  me  every  dollar  you've 
earned,  and  barely  kept  enough  for  your  carfare. 
You've  even  taken  your  lunch  with  you,  because  it  was 
cheaper  than  going  to  a  restaurant." 

"Now,  mama,"  chided  the  daughter,  "don't  start 
figuring  like  that!  For  that  matter,  haven't  you 
made  all  my  clothes?" 

"Yes,"  reluctantly,  "simple  little  dresses  that 
hardly  cost  anything.  You  never  will  let  me  make 
you  anything  fancy  and  pretty  like  those  I  make  for 

Susy "  Her  expression  changed;  smiles 

wreathed  her  face.  "Let  me  show  you  the  blue  party 
dress  I'm  just  finishing  for  her,"  she  urged,  in  an- 
other tone,  " — rows  and  rows  of  dainty  lace,  all 

sewed  on  by  hand "  Evelyn  Grant  hurried  into 

the  parlor  to  get  it. 

"It's  a  dream!"  Susan  enthused,  as  she  helped 
herself  to  another  cup  of  tea.  "Wait  till  you  see  it, 
Norah.  I  had  mama  copy  it  from  the  dress  I  saw 
Florence  Ayres  wear  last  week  in  'Her  Two 
Lovers' — great  show, — wish  you  could  have  seen 
it." 

"Susy,"  Norah  reached  over  and  patted  her 
sister's  hand,  "do  you  think  it  right  to  impose  on 


56  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

mama  like  this — after  she  works  hard  all  day — to  let 
her  sit  up  half  the  night  sewing  on  lace  by  hand  and 
ruining  her  poor  eyes, — for  you?" 

Angrily,  Susan  jerked  her  hand  away.  "Oh,  now, 
you're  going  to  start  in  and  lecture,  I  suppose,"  she 
pouted.  "I'm  sure  if  mama  didn't  want  to  do  it  she 
would  say  so, — wouldn't  you,  mama?"  She  looked 
inquiringly  at  her  mother  as  she  came  in  and 
proudly  held  up  the  blue  dress  for  inspection. 

"Wouldn't  I  what,  dear?" 

"Wouldn't  you  say  you  were  tired  and  didn't 
want  to  make  me  a  party  dress,  if  you  felt  that  way? 
Norah  says  I  impose  on  you  by  letting  you  sew  for 
me  at  night." 

"Why,  nothing  in  the  world  makes  me  happier 
than  to  sew  for  my  girls — I  only  wish  Norah  would 
let  me  make  her  a  party  dress." 

"Oh,  mama !"  Norah  laughed,  "what  in  the  world 
would  I  do  with  a  party  dress!  I'm  sure  I  couldn't 
wear  it  to  the  office." 

"That's  just  it,"  Susan  scowled.  "You  never  go 
anywhere  yourself,  and  you're  sore  because  I'm  hav- 
ing a  good  time." 

"Susan  Grant!"  There  was  an  angry  tone  in  the 
sister's  voice  as  she  turned  on  the  younger  girl.  "I'm 
not  'sore,'  as  you  call  it,  because  you're  having  a 
good  time.  In  the  first  place  what  to  you  is  a  good 
time  is  to  me  a  waste  of  time,  and  in  the  second  place, 
I'd  rather  spend  my  evenings  studying  and  improv- 
ing myself." 

"Is  that  so?  Well,  what's  the  use  of  improving 
yourself  if  you  never  go  anywhere  to  meet  a " 

"Please,  girls!"  Mrs.  Grant  almost  wailed  as  her 
hands  went  out  in  pleading.  "Don't  quarrel! 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  57 

Whenever  we  start  to  talk  things  over,  it  always  ends 
this  way!" 

"I  don't  want  to  quarrel,  mama."  It  was  Susan 
who  was  quickest  to  retort.  "But  Norah's  always 
talking  about  studying  and  improving  herself,  and  I 
can't  see  where  it  has  brought  her  so  much.  She's 
been  working  for  seven  years  and  she's  getting  thirty- 
five  a  week,  and  I've  been  working  three  years  and 
between  my  salary  and  tips  I  average  twenty-five." 

"I  know,  Susy,  and  I  think  you're  doing  fine," 
Norah  agreed  heartily.  "But  after  all  we  only  had 
grammar  school  educations,  so  that's  why  I  like  to 
read  and  study  at  night,  arid  I  think  you  should  want 
to  do  that,  too, — just  a  little,  perhaps." 

"Read?  Why,  I  read  every  spare  minute  I  have! 
Don't  you  even  fuss  at  night,  after  we're  in  bed,  for 
me  to  blow  out  the  lamp  so  that  you  can  go  to 
sleep?" 

"Yes, — but  you  only  read  novels — what  I'm  talk- 
ing about  is  history,  and  English,  and  books  that  will 
teach  something." 

"History?"  Susan  laughed.  "What  good  can  that 
'do  anyone  ?  When  I  go  into  society  I  suppose  I'm  to 
say:  'Why,  how-do-you-do,  Mr.  Crocker?  Do  you 
know  that  Columbus  discovered  America?  George 
Washington  was  the  father  of  his  country?  or  that 
Abraham  Lincoln  freed  the  slaves?'  ' 

"Oh,  Susy!"  Norah  shook  her  head  as  she  and 
her  mother  laughed  over  the  girl's  nonsense  and 
mimicry.  "You  are  hopeless.  But  let's  drop  all  this 
and  get  back  to  where  we  were  about  mama  giving 
up  her  sewing." 

"I  think  she  should  give  it  up,  if  we  can  manage 
to  run  the  house, — only  you  must  know,  Norah,  now 


58  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

as  well  as  any  time,  that  I  don't  give  in  all  my  money 
the  way  you  do." 

"Since  when  is  that,  mama?"  Norah  asked, 
sternly,  surprised.  "I  thought  Susy  gave  you  all  her 
money  and  that  you  dressed  her  and  gave  her  an 
allowance  to  spend!" 

"No,  dear,"  came  the  mother's  hesitating  answer, 
confused  before  the  daughter's  clear  gaze,  " — we — 
er — we  changed  that  some  time  ago.  Susy  said  she 
would  rather  pay  me  ten  dollars  a  week  for  board, 
and  keep  the  rest  she  made  to  dress  on,  and  pay  for 
her  amusements  or  anything  she  needed." 

"Why  wasn't  I  told  about  this?"  Norah  de- 
manded. 

"Because  it  was  between  mama  and  me,  and  wasn't 
any  of  your  business!"  Susan  flared  back.  "You 
would  only  have  kicked  as  usual !" 

"I  certainly  should  have  tried  to  prevent  your 
being  so  selfish,"  Norah  answered,  spiritedly.  "You 
know  well  enough  that  by  this  arrangement  mama 
isn't  getting  a  cent  from  you.  By  the  time  she  makes 
your  dresses  and  buys  the  materials,  I'd  like  to  know 
what  she  has  left?" 

"It  doesn't  take  much  material  to  make  Susy  a 
dress,"  Mrs.  Grant  demurred,  "and,  besides,  you 
know  I  can  get  a  discount." 

"Don't  pay  any  attention  to  her,  mama."  Susan 
strolled  toward  the  bedroom  door.  "She  finds  fault 
with  everything — I'm  going  over  to  Grace's.  We're 
going  to  make  some  fudge.  You  two  can  decide  on 
anything  you  please.  It  will  be  all  right  with  me. 
I'll  show  you  I  can  be  more  agreeable  than  Norah." 

"Oh,  mama!"  Norah  tried  to  keep  back  the  tears 
as  she  faced  her  mother,  after  the  door  banged  be- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  59 

hind  Susan.  "Why  is  she  always  like  that?  She 
never  takes  anything  seriously." 

"Susy  doesn't  happen  to  be  ambitious  like  you  and 
Jimmie, — that's  all.  But  she's  a  good  child  at  heart 
and  I  think  she'll  be  different  when  she's  a  little 
older." 

"Well,  at  least  I'm  glad  Jimmie's  different.  Why 
'didn't  he  come  home  to  dinner  to-night,  mama, — I 
forgot  to  ask  you?" 

"He  telephoned  he  would  stay  at  the  shop  until 
nine  to  work  out  something  or  other, — a  switchboard 

something,  I  think "  As  she  spoke  vaguely, 

Mrs.  Grant  vainly  triedvto  pat  back  a  yawn  that 
would  not  be  suppressed.  "I  wonder  if  you'd  mind, 
dear,"  she  asked,  "if  I  should  lie  down  for  an  hour? 
I'm  more  tired  than  I  thought,  and  a  little  nap  will 
straighten  me  out,  so  that  I  can  finish  Susy's  dress." 

As  the  mother  lay  down  on  the  dining  room  couch^ 
Norah  drew  the  cashmere  shawl  that  always  hung 
over  the  old-fashioned  rocker  carefully  about  her. 
She  stooped  over  and  kissed  her. 

Then  she  went  into  the  parlor  and  took  the  blue 
party  dress  from  the  hanger.  She  saw  just  where 
the  three  or  four  more  rows  of  lace  were  needed  to 
finish  it. 

As  she  sat  by  the  lamp,  diligently  plying  her 
needle,  she  smiled  ruefully  as  she  pictured  to  herself 
the  expression  on  Susy's  face  could  she  but  have 
seen  her. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IF  there  was  something  strained  in  Norah  Grant's 
manner  in  the  next  few  days,  a  little  something 
different  from  her  usual  cheerful  self,  Albert 
Carew,  always  understanding,  put  it  down  to  the  heat. 
For  it  was  hot  even  for  San  Francisco.  In  the  office 
buildings  the  windows  were  wide  open  to  catch  every 
faint  breeze. 

Looking  down  from  her  own  high  eerie,  where  it 
was  always  cool  if  there  were  a  breath  of  air  stirring, 
Norah  Grant  allowed  herself  a  smile  of  compassion 
at  the  sight  of  the  small  messenger  boy  ambling 
along,  more  intent  on  consuming  the  ice  cream  cone 
he  was  trying  to  dispose  of  before  it  melted  than  in 
delivering  any  message  with  which  he  might  have 
been  entrusted.  She  turned  back  to  her  desk,  where 
there  was  work  to  do,  let  the  weather  be  what  it 
might  be.  Still,  it  was  not  the  weather  that  had  been 
making  the  girl  distrait  and  silent  for  the  past  few 
days.  It  had  always  been  her  custom  to  put  out  of 
her  mind  anything  concerning  her  home  when  at 
work,  anything  but  business  when  she  was  up  there 
working  for  Carew  &  Carew,  but  something  had 
happened  that  just  would  not  erase  itself,  even  tem- 
porarily, from  her  mind. 

Her  mother  must  go  on  working,  at  least  for  a 
time.  That,  she  now  knew, — and  it  was  the  know- 
ing, and  the  why  of  it,  that  was  distressing  her, — 

60 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  61 

almost  breaking  her  heart.  Her  own  brother  and 
sister  had  failed  her.  For,  when  she  had  insisted 
that  her  mother  quit  work,  it  had  only  been  to  dis- 
cover that  she  was  the  only  member  of  the  family 
who  was  willing  to  contribute  all,  in  the  fraternal 
community  manner  which  her  grandmother  had  ad- 
vocated so  long  ago  and  had  lived  up  to  until  the 
day  of  her  death,  as  Norah  herself  was  now  living 
up  to  her  agreement. 

Susan  most  emphatically  refused  to  hand  in  all 
her  weekly  salary. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  though,"  she  finally 
condescended,  after  an  avrgument  more  heated  than 
any  that  had  ever  before  occurred  in  the  placid 
Grant  family.  "If  you  insist,  I'll  turn  in  fifteen  a 
week, — but  I  can't  see  the  use  of  working  if  I  can't 
keep  some  for  myself." 

And  there  was  nothing  from  Jimmie,  a  fact  which' 
probably  hurt  Norah  worse  than  Susan's  dereliction. 
But  Jimmie  explained  how  little  he  was  making  while 
learning  his  trade,  and  how  much  he  needed  that 
little. 

"I'm  as  anxious  as  you,  Norah,"  he  insisted,  "to 
see  mother  stop  working,  and  as  soon  as  I'm  earn- 
ing a  regular  salary  I'll  do  anything  you  say,  but 
surely  you  can't  expect  me  to  ask  mother  for  car- 
fare and  spending  money  like  a  kid  of  ten.  You 
seem  to  forget  I'm  past  sixteen." 

Norah  was  disappointed  in  Jimmie, — sadly. 

So  it  had  been,  as  usual,  the  little  mother  who  had 
put  an  end  to  the  argument  by  refusing  to  give  up 
work,  and  Norah  Grant  was  thinking  of  her  mother's 
back  bent  over  her  sewing  as  she  sat  in  her  small 
office,  where  at  least  it  was  cool. 


62  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

The  buzzer  at  the  side  of  her  desk  announced  to 
her  that  she  was  wanted  in  her  employer's  private 
office.  Gathering  up  her  note  book  and  pencil  she 
went  to  answer  the  summons.  Albert  Carew,  his 
kindly  old  face  lighted  with  a  smile,  sat  thrumming 
on  his  glass  topped  desk,  genially  conversing  with 
a  young  man  who  sat  opposite  him.  He  looked  up, 
as  Norah  entered. 

"Miss  Grant,"  he  introduced,  "I  want  you  to 
meet  my  nephew,  Stuart  Wells.  Just  graduated 
from  Stanford  and  I'm  taking  him  in  here  with  me." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Wells."  Norah  bowed 
slightly  as  the  young  man  rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  almost  feel  as  if  I  know  you,  Miss  Grant,"  he 
said  cordially.  "I'm  so  used  to  seeing  your  initials 
on  the  bottom  of  my  uncle's  letters." 

"I  intend  having  Mr.  Wells'  desk  placed  in  here 
with  me,"  Mr.  Carew  announced.  "I'm  going  to 
take  a  short  trip  east  in  September,  and  I  shall 
leave  my  clients  in  his  hands.  You'll  take  his  letters 
and  do  for  him  the  same  as  for  me?" 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Carew,"  she  answered  promptly. 
"Is  there  anything  more  now?  I  have  several  im- 
portant letters  to  answer." 

"In  about  half  an  hour  I'll  have  some  dictation." 

She  turned  to  go  and  young  Wells  jumped  up  to 
hold  open  the  door.  She  was  visibly  confused  and 
embarrassed  as  she  murmured,  "Thank  you,"  being 
unused  to  gallantry  of  this  sort;  but  had  she  been 
able  to  analyze  herself  better  she  would  have  known 
it  was  not  so  much  the  attention  as  the  boldness  of. 
the  man's  glance  that  was  disconcerting. 

While    sorting    papers    that    afternoon    in    Mr. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  63 

Carew's  office  she  had  a  chance  to  scrutinize  young 
Wells  rather  closely  without  attracting  his  attention. 

Exteriorly,  everything  was  in  his  favor.  He  was 
a  fine  looking,  tall  young  chap,  with  wavy  brownv 
hair  and  dark  brown  eyes ;  his  features  were  all  good 
with  the  exception  of  the  mouth  and  that  showed 
a  decided  weakness  of  character.  But  this  was  not 
apparent  to  Norah,  for  she  had  not  reached  the  time 
when  she  could  read  a  man's  countenance.  To  her 
he  was  just  a  handsome  young  man,  and  with  that 
she  dismissed  him  from  her  thoughts. 

She  found,  however,  before  the  week  passed  that 
he  was  an  important  factor  in  the  office,  not  to  be 
dismissed  so  easily.  Half  a  dozen  times  a  day  he 
sent  for  her  to  take  a  letter,  to  attend  to  some 
'phoning  or  to  look  up  notes  for  him;  twice  he  had 
asked  her  out  to  lunch  but  each  time  she  declined 
gracefully,  telling  him  she  always  brought  her  lunch 
with  her. 

"Well,  that  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  he 
answered  the  second  time  she  had  refused  him. 
"Just  let  it  go  to  waste.  We'll  run  up  to  Tait's  or 
the  Tavern  and  have  a  little  bite — it  will  be  much 
pleasanter  for  a  change." 

"I  prefer  having  my  lunch  here,  thank  you  just 
the  same,  Mr.  Wells,"  Norah  answered  pleasantly. 
"It  takes  just  half  the  time  and  allows  me  to  go 
right  on  with  my  work." 

"But  that's  all  right,"  Wells  insisted.  "I'll  fix  it 
with  my  uncle  if  you're  a  little  late." 

"There  isn't  any  reason  for  me  to  be  late.  I 
love  my  work  and  I  enjoy  sticking  to  it." 

"Yes,  but  it  can't  be  all  work  and  no  play." 
Wells  laughed.  "That  never  did  anyone  good." 


64  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"I  have  plenty  of  recreation  away  from  the 
office,"  she  answered.  "Mr.  Carew  pays  me  to 
work  and  that's  what  I'm  here  for." 

"Well,  then,  why  not  come  to  dinner  and  the 
theatre  with  me  some  evening,"  Wells  persisted. 
"That  won't  interfere  with  your  work  in  the  least." 

"Thank  you,  but  I  really  prefer  to  spend  my  eve- 
nings at  home  with  my  mother."  She  turned  rather 
abruptly  to  her  typewriter,  indicating  that  the  in- 
terview was  over. 

Wells  shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly  as  he 
walked  back  into  the  private  office,  a  peculiar  smile 
lurking  around  the  corners  of  his  thin  lips.  But 
back  in  her  own  little  office,  Norah  Grant  went  on 
with  her  work  almost  feverishly,  a  bright  spot  burn- 
ing on  either  cheek.  For  the  first  time  in  her  busi- 
ness experience,  she  knew  what  it  was  to  be  annoyed 
and  irritated  by  the  persistent  attentions  of  a  man, 
but  she  felt  sure  that  they  would  not,  could  not 
continue,  after  her  abrupt  dismissal  of  him.  But 
what  to  do  about  it  she  did  not  know.  She  wasted 
quite  fifteen  good  minutes  that  by  right  belonged  to 
Albert  Carew, — a  violation  of  her  code  that  argued 
some  pretty  good  underlying  reason — trying  to 
think  it  out.  She  could  not  complain  to  Mr.  Carew. 
There  wasn't  anything  to  complain  about.  Mr. 
Wells  had  asked  her  to  lunch  and  to  dinner,  it  was 
true,  but  her  common  sense  told  her  that  acceptance 
or  declination  rested  entirely  with  herself.  She 
could  imagine  Mr.  Carew  laughing  heartily,  if  she 
said  she  was  annoyed  because  someone  wanted  to 
take  her  to  lunch  instead  of  eating  her  own  home 
prepared  lunch  which  the  old  lawyer  alternately 
jested  her  about  and  approved. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  65 

In  the  same  way,  her  mother  was  precluded  as  a 
confidant.  Her  mother  had  never  been  worried 
about  her;  had  never  had  cause  to  be.  And  Norah 
was  determined  she  never  should  be  if  she  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  matter.  Her  head  nodded 
sagely  as  she  punched  viciously  at  the  typewriter 
keys,  as  though  she  were  giving  some  heartily  de- 
served smacks  to  an  offender. 

"No,"  she  whispered  to  herself,  "if  there's  any 
'talking  things  over'  in  this  case,  I'll  just  talk  it  over 
with  the  vacuum  cleaner  in  the  hall,  or  Mr.  Carew's 
pet  stuffed  owl  or  something  else  equally  as  wise  as 
myself.  There's  one  thing  I  can  do  at  least.  I  can 
just  keep  on  saying  'No'  just  as  often  as  he  can  ask, 
and  believe  me,"  Norah  Grant  was  not  addicted  to 
slang  either,  "I'm  the  one  who'll , do  it!" 

It  was  not  until  September,  however,  when  the 
summer  was  over,  that  Norah  Grant  had  any  cause 
to  complain  to  anyone  of  annoyance  on  the  part 
of  her  employer's  nephew,  leaving  aside  the  tiny 
prickles  that  ran  all  up  and  down  her  body  as  though 
someone  had  turned  on  a  sudden  spray  of  ice  water, 
when  she  would  look  up  from  her  typewriter  at  an 
unexpected  sound  to  see  Wells  standing  in  her  door- 
way. Always  his  entry  was  so,  almost  noiseless. 
Always  he  had  that  cat-like  grin.  Norah  could  not 
help  but  compare  herself  to  the  mouse  the  cat  would 
like  to  eat  when  she  saw  him  standing  there,  eyeing 
her  critically,  almost  insolently. 

With  her  own  employer  in  the  East,  she  was 
virtually  the  private  secretary  of  Wells,  and  Norah 
was  longing  for  Mr.  Carew's  return  long  before  it 
was  scheduled.  But,  strangely  enough, — for  she  had 
been  fearful  of  something,  she  could  not  tell  exactly 


66  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

what  (doubtless  her  woman's  intuition  was  warning 
her  as  it  always  warns  those  who  care  to  listen 
whether  they  be  nineteen  or  ninety — this  holdover 
warning  from  the  days  of  cavemen  when  woman 
must  always  be  on  the  defensive)  nothing  happened 
to  mar  the  evenness  of  her  days.  Until  just  before 
Mr.  Carew's  return. 

When  Norah  Grant  heard  the  buzzer  ringing 
beside  her  desk  that  afternoon,  and  noted  it  came 
from  the  private  office,  there  seemed  to  be  some- 
thing sinister  in  the  sound  itself,  something  warning. 
It  was  late,  for  one  thing,  and  she  was  finishing  up 
for  the  day,  so  would  not  have  been  well  pleased 
even  though  there  were  nothing  else  than  new  busi- 
ness to  confront  her.  It  was  with  a  frown  of 
annoyance  that  she  gathered  up  her  note  book  and 
pencil  and  hurried  to  the  room  occupied  by  Wells. 

He  was  seated  at  his  desk,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses so  engrossed  with  some  papers  over  which  he 
was  poring  that  he  did  not  seem  at  first  to  notice 
the  girl's  entry.  He  turned  with  a  start  and  a  wave 
of  his  hand  toward  the  chair  at  his  side. 

"Ah,  Miss  Grant,"  he  said  blandly.  "Sorry  to 
keep  you  so  late,  but  there  is  a  letter  of  great  im- 
portance which  I  must  get  off  at  once,  and " 

"Yes,  sir."  Norah  wasted  no  words,  but  seatecl 
herself,  and  sat,  pencil  poised  in  hand. 

Wells  glanced  towards  the  outer  door. 

"I'll  only  keep  you  a  short  time,"  he  repeated, 
"ah" — he  took  his  watch  from  his  pocket  and  con- 
sulted it  frowningly,  "didn't  know  it  was  as  late  as 
that — I  suppose  everyone  has  gone?"  This  with 
a  lifting  of  eyebrows  in  inquiry. 

Norah's  answer  was  unsuspecting.     "Yes,  I  am 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  67 

the  last,"  she  nodded.     "I  was  just  about  ready  to 
go,  but  of  course  I'm  glad  to  take  your  letter." 

For  an  instant  a  smile  lurked  about  the  thin 
drawn  corners  of  his  thin-lipped  mouth,  a  smile  that 
to  anyone  less  unsophisticated  than  Norah  Grant 
would  have  been  illuminating.  Then  he  settled  him- 
self in  his  chair,  his  finger  tips  pressed  close  to- 
gether in  the  attitude  Norah  had  come  to  recognize 
as  characteristic  of  the  man  when  he  was  composing, 

"Messrs.  Thompson  &  Baird, 
Flood  Building, 

Market  and  Powell  Sts., 

City. 
Gentlemen : " 

For  a  page  and  a  half  he  dictated,  a  space  so 
filled  with  inanities  that  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
the  girl  retained  her  composure  as  her  woman's  in- 
stinct saw  through  the  flimsy  excuse.  Not  more  than 
a  dozen  lines  had  been  written  before  she  realized 
that  there  was  no  letter  of  importance,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  one  that  might  easily  have  waited  two  or 
three  days  before  its  indictment.  With  a  little  pang, 
she  realized,  too,  that  everyone  except  herself  and 
Wells  had  gone,  and  that  she,  herself,  had  told  him 
so.  But  she  must  keep  her  self-control.  Over  and 
over  she  told  herself  that,  as  her  pencil  flew,  her 
head  bent  over  her  work,  and  her  cheeks  flamed 
with  indignation,  and — something  else. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  the  silence,  except  for  the  man's  monotonous 
droning,  Norah  could  hear  every  street  sound 
far  below  the  windows.  She  wished  heartily  she 
was  out  there  with  the  clanging  street  cars,  where 
the  newsboys  were  howling  their  late  editions. 
Small  things  became  most  evident  to  her.  She  saw 
the  green  of  the  carpet  and  its  deep  nap  in  a  way 
she  had  never  seen  them  before.  Albert  Carew's 
stuffed  owl's  feathers  were  more  emphatically  gray 
and  brown,  and  the  old  bird  seemed  about  to  speak. 
His  glassy  eyes  seemed  real.  She  noted  the  paper 
knives  on  the  desk;  Wells'  half  burned  cigarette  in 
the  ash  tray,  where  he  had  snuffed  it  out  on  her 
entry.  She  wrote  on. 

With  admirable  composure  she  wrote  on  to  the 
finish,  "Yours  truly";  closed  her  note  book  and,  as 
she  rose  and  smoothed  out  the  front  of  her  blouse, 
said  calmly: 

"I'm  sure  there  will  be  plenty  of  time  for  me  to 
type  this  to-morrow,  Mr.  Wells.  It's  past  my  time 
now,  and  I'd  like  to  go." 

Wells  looked  up  and  spoke  sharply. 

"You're  not  always  so  particular,  Miss  Grant. 
I've  noticed  you  often  remain  an  hour  or  two 
overtime  to  do  my  uncle's  work " 

"When  that  work  is  important." 

The  man  assumed  an  air  of  dignity. 

68 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  69 

"I  consider  this  letter  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance," he  assured  her  coolly,  but  before  he  could 
continue,  Norah  Grant,  facing  him  fearlessly,  spirit- 
edly answered:  "I  don't,  Mr.  Wells.  And  I'm 
quite  as  conversant  with  this  matter  as  you."  A 
bright  spot  burned  in  each  cheek  as  she  concluded. 
"And  I  know  there  is  no  need  of  any  such 
haste " 

She  turned  toward  the  door,  but  the  man  was  on 
his  feet.  Without  the  slightest  warning  he  had 
reached  her  side  and  grasped  her  hand. 

"What's  the  use  of  pretending,  Norah?"  he 
asked,  "I'm  not  such  a  bad  sort,  though  you  have 
insisted  on  putting  me  on  so  often.  I'm  very  fond 
of  you,  really, — come  on,  let's  kiss  and  make  up — 
no  more  of  this  foolishness " 

Norah  was  not  able  to  explain  the  strength  that 
came  to  her  as  she  wrenched  loose  from  the  man's 
hold,  but  her  dignity  bade  her  not  to  run.  Instead, 
she  started,  wordlessly  indignant,  to  walk  toward 
the  door.  She  could  not  imagine  that  Wells  would 
take  any  other  course  than  to  allow  her  to  go  on 
her  way  without  further  molestation.  Whereby  she 
showed  her  ignorance  of  the  existence  of  such  a  type 
of  man  as  Wells. 

For  in  one  bound  he  had  reached  the  door  and 
stood  before  it. 

"You  just  listen  to  me!"  He  was  angry.  "I'm 
not  a  villain  in  a  cheap  melodrama,  and  I  haven't 
any  intention  of  forcing  you  to  submit  to  my  em- 
braces, but  I  don't  like  the  way  you've  been  trying 
to  hold  yourself  so  devilishly  aloof,  and  I'm  going 
to  find  out  a  few  things.  I  insist  that  you  stay 
right  here  and  talk  to  me  for  a  while." 


70  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Though  her  cheeks  were  blazing,  and  her  throat 
choked  with  a  rush  of  words,  the  girl  forced  her- 
self to  an  appearance  of  calmness.  With  the  air 
of  a  studied  woman  of  the  world  she  said  coldly: 

"I  can't  imagine  what  good  that  can  possibly  do." 

"A  lot,  probably,"  he  replied,  insolently.  "Per- 
haps,— probably,  I  might  say, — after  an  hour's  talk 
here  you  may, — er — kiss  me  quite  willingly." 

Norah's  shoulders  shrugged  meaningly,  and  the 
smile  she  gave  as  she  looked  the  man  straight 
in  the  eyes  was  contemptuous  as  she  added,  levelly: 
"Really,  Mr.  Wells,  don't  you  think  this  nonsense 
has  gone  far  enough?  Open  that  door  please!  At 
once!" 

For  answer  the  man  shoved  his  hands  deeper  into 
his  pockets,  his  narrow  eyes  regarding  her. 

"Norah,  my  dear,  I  meant  every  word  I  said." 

There  was  something  in  the  very  calmness  of  his 
voice;  in  the  dangerous  light  in  his  eyes;  in  his  in- 
solent poise  that  proved  to  Norah  Grant,  little  ex- 
perienced in  dealing  with  men  of  such  caliber  as 
she  was,  that  this  was  not  an  impetuous  boy,  as  she 
had  at  first  imagined,  but  a  man  who  was  more  used 
to  ruthless  dealing  to  gain  his  ends,  however  un- 
worthy those  ends  might  be.  There  shot  swiftly 
before  her  mind's  eye  the  old,  old  advice  about  dis- 
cretion being  the  better  part  of  valor.  Once  more 
her  shoulders  shrugged,  and  she  walked  back  to  the 
desk,  calmly,  unafraid. 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  answered  in  a  still  voice, 
"if  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  talk  to  me,  and 
are  willing  to  take  the  method  you  have,  I'm  sure 
I  can't  prevent  it.  And  perhaps,"  one  moment  a 
glance  in  his  direction  shot  from  her  eyes  sidelong, 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  -71 

"it  may  not  be  a  bad  thing  for  us  to  understand 
:each  other — thoroughly." 

Wells,  however,  chose  to  ignore  the  obvious  mean- 
ing. "Now,  you're  acting  like  a  sensible  little  girl," 
he  complimented,  as  he  sauntered  towards  her,  his 
attitude  changed  in  the  flash  of  an  eye  from  belliger- 
ency to  that  of  the  suave  gentleman  he  usually 
seemed  to  be.  "No  harm  meant,  I  assure  you — 
didn't  mean  to  offend  you — I'm  a  gentleman  and 
any  girl " 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Wells."  From  her  tone  Norah 
might  have  been  stating  a  fact,  for  there  was  no 
hint  of  the  veiled  sarcasm^the  man  knew  must  be  in 
the  agreement;  nor  did  he  care.  "But  there  is  one 
thing "  She  hesitated. 

"Yes?" 

"If  I  am  to  stay  here,  I  really  must  telephone 
my  mother  I'm  detained.  I  always  do  and  she  would 
be  worried  otherwise." 

It  was  with  the  same  assumption  of  elaborate 
courtesy  with  which  he  had  once  opened  the  door 
for  her,  that  Wells  picked  up  the  desk  telephone 
and  handed  it  to  her.  So  intent  on  his  own  thoughts 
was  he,  though,  that  he  would  not  have  noticed  the 
triumphant  gleam  in  her  eyes  could  he  have  seen 
beneath  the  downcast  lids,  nor  could  he  guess  the 
beating  of  her  heart  as  she  quietly  called  her 
number. 

"That  you,  Susy?"  she  asked  presently.  "Please 
ask  mama  to  come  to  the  telephone — hello,  mama, 
dear?  Yes, — will  you  please  come  down  to  the  office 
at  once,  mama, — yes — yes — I'm  not  feeling  very 
well — .  No — nothing  serious,  just  a — a  sort  of 
headache  and  dizzy  feeling  and  I  don't  want  to  go 


72  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

home  alone.  I'll  be  all  right — it  will  only  take  you 
about  twenty  minutes  and  besides  I'm  not  here  alone 
— Mr.  Wells  is  here  with  me — yes — I  think  he'll 
stay  until  you  come.  Now  don't  worry  about  me, 
mama — just  a  minute,  and  I'll  ask  Mr.  Wells  to 
talk  to  you  and  assure  you  that  I'm  all  right." 

She  turned  to  Wells.  Never  in  her  life  would 
she  forget  the  expression  in  his  face.  Like  the  hero 
or  villain  of  a  screen  drama  he  seemed  endeavoring 
to  register  all  the  emotions  at  once;  rage,  bewilder- 
ment, incredulity,  not  unmingled  with  a  certain 
amount  of  admiration. 

"Mr.  Wells."  She  held  out  the  receiver,  finding 
it  a  bit  difficult  not  to  smile.  "Will  you  kindly 
assure  my  mother  that  I'll  be  perfectly  all  right  here 
with  you  until  she  comes?" 

"With  pleasure,  Miss  Grant."  He  was  mock- 
ingly deferential  as  he  took  the  receiver.  "How  do 
you  do,  Mrs.  Grant?  There  is  no  need  for  you  to 
worry.  Oh,  no — just  a  slight  indisposition,  I  assure 
you.  Yes— I'll  tell  her.  Good-by." 

He  replaced  the  receiver  slowly  and  eyed  Norah 
steadily  for  a  moment  before  he  spoke: 

"Your  mother  will  be  here  in  less  than  half  an 
hour.  Permit  me  to  congratulate  you  upon  your 
cleverness.  For  a  girl  believed  to  have  so  little  ex- 
perience, let  me  add,  you  show  remarkable  presence 
of  mind." 

Norah  did  not  deign  to  answer  him  as  she  walked 
from  the  room.  Ready  for  the  street,  he  appeared 
a  minute  later  and  paused  long  enough  to  say,  as 
he  drew  on  his  gloves : 

"It  is  probably  unnecessary — and  undesirable — 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  73 

for  me  to  remain  with  you  until  your  mother  comes. 
You  are  most  capable  of  taking  care  of  yourself." 

"I  shall  manage  very  nicely,  thank  you,"  Norah 
answered  demurely.  "I  will  wait  downstairs  for 
mother,  so  you  may  lock  the  office." 

As  she  crossed  the  threshold  he  stopped  her 
again. 

"Just  one  thing  more,  Miss  Grant.  I  don't  for- 
get easily.  You  are  the  first  girl  who  has  ever 
dared  to  make  a  fool  of  me,  and " 

Even  while  she  realized  that  the  remark  would 
probably  cost  her  her  position,  she  answered  sweetly: 
"Thank  you,  Mr.  Wells;  I  appreciate  the  honor." 
She  smiled  while  he  fumbled  nervously  with  his  keys, 
but  the  minute  she  was  in  the  elevator,  out  of  his 
sight,  she  began  to  wilt  like  a  faded  flower.  She 
dabbed  hastily  with  her  handkerchief  at  the  two  big 
tears  that  began  to  trickle  down  her  cheeks. 

Standing  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the  hallway,  she 
saw  Stuart  Wells  come  down  in  the  next  elevator 
and  hurriedly  leave  the  building. 

As  she  waited  in  the  entrance  for  her  mother,  she 
found  time  to  think  over  the  past  hour  carefully. 
The  one  thing  she  was  determined  upon  was  that  her 
mother  should  know  nothing  of  it.  It  would  be 
necessary  to  stick  to  her  white  lie,  of  course,  and 
let  her  mother  think  she  was  ill.  At  least  that  sort 
of  worry  would  be  a  natural  one  and  she  would  be 
over  it  the  moment  Norah  assured  her  that  she  was 
feeling  better. 

To  protect  her  mother  and  keep  her  days  free 
from  worry.  That  to  Norah  Grant  was  the  essen- 
tial thing  in  the  world.  The  old  look  of  determina- 


74  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

tion  and  courage  sprang  into  her  eyes  as  she  stood 
in  the  growing  twilight,  watching  the  fog  rolling 
steadily  in.  If  she  intended  to  become  a  business 
woman  and  battle  with  the  world,  this  was,  perhaps, 
only  one  of  the  many  problems  she  would  be  com- 
pelled to  meet.  Of  one  thing  she  felt  assured;  she 
had  emerged  from  her  first  battle  victoriously,  at 
least  so  far.  That  there  would  be  a  sequel  she  felt 
rather  certain,  but  somehow  she  was  not  in  the  least 
disturbed  by  the  thought.  She  suddenly  felt  revived 
and  fortified;  she  knew  not  whether  it  was  the  soft 
mist  of  the  fog  or  the  smile  on  her  mother's  face 
as  she  came  quickly  toward  her. 

"Oh,  Norah  dear,  you  must  be  better  if  you're 
able  to  stand  down  here.  What  seemed  to  be  the 
matter?" 

"I'm  all  right  now,  mama."  Norah  was  anxious 
to  get  it  over  with.  "I  was  a  little  faint,  but  this 
air  has  helped;  I  would  have  telephoned  for  you 
not  to  come,  but  I  knew  you  must  have  left." 

Norah  linked  her  arm  within  her  mother's  as  they 
started  down  the  street  and  snuggled  up  to  her. 
"To  tell  the  truth,  mama,  I  think  I  was  just  sort 
of  babyish  and  wanted  to  have  you  call  for  me  just 
as  you  used  to  on  Saturday  nights  when  I  worked 
in  Taylor's  candy  store." 

Mrs.  Grant  patted  her  hand  affectionately. 

"You've  never  had  very  much  babying,  Norah," 
she  said  sadly.  "It  seems  to  me  you've  been  working 
for  years." 

"Why,  that's  nothing  to  feel  badly  about,  mama. 
I  love  to  work." 

"I  know  that,  dear,  but  you're  missing  all  your 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  75 

girlhood — you  never  have  any  pleasures  or  a  chance; 
for  the  dreams  that  all  young  girls  love.'' 

"You  mean  parties  and  dances  and  picnics  and 
things  like  that?"  Norah  laughed  in  a  carefree 
manner. 

"Well,  yes;  that's  what  I  do  mean — the  natural 
things  for  all  young  girls  to  crave." 

"I'm  sure  Susy  makes  up  for  the  whole  family 
when  it  comes  to  things  like  that."  Norah's  laugh 
was  still  heartier  and  good  natured.  There  was 
such  a  lightening  in  her  heart  just  to  feel  the  close- 
ness of  her  mother;  the  warmth  of  her  body.  "I've 
told  you  often  enough  I  don't  care  at  all  about  such 
things." 

"You  don't  know  whether  you  do  or  not,"  her 
mother  answered  as  they  boarded  a  Mission  Street 
car.  "You've  never  had  a  chance  to  find  out." 

"How  about  you,  mama?  Did  you  do  all  those 
things  when  you  were  a  girl?" 

There  was  method  in  the  query,  for  Norah  knew 
if  there  was  one  thing  in  the  world  that  her  mother 
loved  it  was  to  talk  about  the  days  of  her  courtship 
and  early  marriage.  She  lived  and  relived,  again 
and  again,  the  moonlight  hay  rides  in  Castro  Valley, 
the  Sunday  Picnics  to  Dublin  Canyon,  and  later  the 
Friday  nights  at  the  Tivoli,  the  Sunday  promenades 
in  Golden  Gate  Park  and  the  annual  dance  given  by 
the  employees  of  Tuttle,  Brandon  &  Briggs. 

"So  you  see,  dear,  I  had  a  lot  of  good  times  when 
I  was  young.  Just  the  memory  of  those  days  has 
helped  me  through  the  drab  ones." 

"You  and  I  will  have  plenty  of  good  times  later 
on,  mama,"  Norah  assured  her.  "I  can  get  all  the 


76  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

pleasure  I  want  just  by  planning  my  business  career 
and  thinking  about  the  time  when  I  will  be  able  to 
take  care  of  you  all  by  myself."  She  gave  the 
elder  woman's  hand  a  gentle  squeeze.  Mrs.  Grant's 
head  shook  slowly,  but  there  was  a  great  light  of 
satisfied  mother  love  in  her  eyes  as  she  answered  : 

"Sometimes  you  almost  frighten  me  with  your 
queer  notions  about  life  and  happiness.  After  all 
it  takes  more  than  a  successful  business  career  to 
make  life  worth  while.  It  isn't  good  for  anyone 
to  allow  ambition  to  carry  them  too  far,  and  I'm 
afraid  that's  what  you're  doing." 

"Why,  mama !  Just  because  I  don't  care  for 
parties  and  dances?" 

"Not  only  that,  dear,  but  in  everything  else  you 
are  different  from  the  majority  of  girls,"  her  mother 
answered.  "I  don't  want  you  to  become  obsessed 
with  this  idea  of  independence  to  such  an  extent  that 
it  will  ruin  your  life." 

"I  promise  I  won't  do  that,"  Norah  laughed. 

"I  wish  you  would  meet  some  nice  young  man  and 
get  married,"  Evelyn  Grant  sighed  lugubriously. 

"And  if  I  did  I'd  like  to  know  what  would  become 
of  my  sweetheart?" 

"Your  sweetheart?  Why,  dear,  I  didn't  know — 
j " 

"You  don't  know  who  my  sweetheart  is?" 

"Why,  no !     You  never  even  mentioned " 

"It's  you,  of  course,  precious;  didn't  you  know 
it?  Here's  our  corner — now  let's  talk  about  some- 
thing nicer  than  men,  or  my  marrying.  I  have  ages 
and  ages  before  I  have  to  think  about  that." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  WOMAN  scorned! 
Same  old   story;  same  old  theme;  played 
upon    through    the    ages;    adding    to    the 
already  too  great  pomposity  of  man  concerning  his 
own  broad,    forgiving  nature;   one  more  proof  of 
the  superiority  of  his  sex;  another  vaunting  of  the 
time-worn  fallacy. 

To  know  the  truth,  ask  a  woman  in  business. 
Hear  what  she  may  say  o?  the  man  who  is  scorned. 
Ask  her;  that's  all! 

And  Norah  Grant,  a  business  woman,  came  to 
know  all  it  meant,  all  the  humiliation  of  having 
scorned  a  man,  a  man  at  that  who,  by  his  superior 
position,  his  chances  for  humiliation,  for  the  sup- 
posedly feminine  prerogative  of  "getting  even" 
could  make  things,  to  say  the  least,  decidedly  un- 
pleasant for  her  who  scorned.  So  unpleasant  that, 
on  the  return  of  her  employer  from  his  trip  East, 
she  felt  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  resign. 
Albert  Carew  did  not  take  her  resignation  with  all 
the  resignation  he  might  have.  In  fact,  he  was  most 
disturbed,  and  had  he  not  been  the  discerning  man 
he  was,  he  might  have  insisted  on  her  remaining. 
But  years  as  a  lawyer,  of  reading  men's  and  women's 
hearts,  had  taught  old  Albert  Carew  much,  and  it 
needed  little  more  than  the  few  chill  words  orcr- 
heard  between  his  nephew  and  Norah  Grant  to  show 
him  how  the  wind  lay.  And,  courteous,  old-school 

77 


78  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

gentleman  that  he  was,  he  realized  that,  however 
much  to  be  regretted  it  was,  there  was  no  other  way 
out,  save  to  allow  his  cherished  secretary  to  resign, 
or  to  discharge  his  own  nephew, — a  thing  he  obvi- 
ously could  not  do,  since  Stuart  Wells  was  a  kind  of 
trust. 

But  Albert  Carew  knew. 

His  big  booming  voice  reached  her  through  the 
closing  door  the  day  she  had  gone  in  to  tender  her 
resignation,  as  she  went  through  it  for  the  last  time. 
Carew  was  speaking  to  his  nephew. 

"I've  always  known  the  species  you  belonged  to, 
Stuart,"  he  said  acidly,  "but  I  didn't  think  you  were 
exactly  that  kind  of  a  pup.  If  you're  ever  to  succeed 
in  this  business  you'll  have  to  learn  discernment,  and 
half  an  eye  should  have  shown  you  Norah  Grant  is 
a  lady!" 

She  could  not  make  out  the  sourly  mumbled  re- 
ply of  Wells,  but  her  heart  sang  at  the  tribute  to 
herself  she  had  overheard. 

It  was  through  Carew  that  she  obtained  another 
position  within  the  week,  a  position  so  much  more 
lucrative  and  with  chances  for  advancement  that  she 
had  no  time  to  regret  the  severing  of  her  pleasant 
relations  with  old  Albert  Carew.  Chance  threw 
Daniel  Thorne,  one  of  the  city's  best  known  brokers, 
in  the  old  lawyer's  way  the  same  night,  Thorne  be- 
wailing to  his  old  friend  the  loss  of  his  secretary 
who  was  to  be  married. 

So,  at  the  end  of  the  week,  while  Stuart  Wells 
discontentedly  dictated  his  letters  to  a  sallow  com- 
plexioned,  watery-eyed  young  man,  Norah  Grant 
had  taken  up  her  duties  in  the  office  of  Daniel 
Thorne,  a  position  she  fitted  into  so  admirably  that 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  79 

at  the  end  of  the  year  she  had  been  advanced  to  the 
position  of  private  secretary  and  general  manager. 

Mrs.  Grant,  over  in  Oakland,  gossiping  on  one 
of  her  rare  visits  with  the  old  sewing  circle,  could 
well  be  forgiven  her  pardonable  pride. 

"And  such  a  salary!"  she  exclaimed,  telling  them 
of  Norah.  "Why,  there's  not  another  girl  in  the 
city  getting  it.  And  she  does  so  much!  You  know 
we've  moved  from  the  old  flat  in  Capp  Street  to 
the  loveliest  four  room  apartment  on  Pine  near 
Jones — nearer  Norah's  office,  you  know.  Yes, — 
we've  sold  all  the  old  furniture, — everything  brand 
new — of  course  it's  a  little  further  for  Susan,  but 
she  doesn't  mind, — Norah  pays  the  fare,  and 

all "  She  frowned  a  little  as  she  added  the 

latter. 

It  was  a  sore  point  with  Mrs.  Grant;  how  Susan 
so  blandly  allowed  her  sister  to  do  everything;  how 
Susan  herself  did  nothing  save  for  herself.  Once  she 
remonstrated. 

"I  shouldn't  think  you  would  allow  it,  Susy,"  Mrs. 
Grant  had  tried  to  argue  with  her.  "It  seems  to 
me  your  pride  would  prevent  you  from  depending 
entirely  upon  anyone." 

"No,  mama,"  Susy  laughed,  "I'm  not  a  bit  proud. 
Norah's  got  enough  independence  in  her  nature  to 
sign  a  little  declaration  of  her  own.  Besides,  she's 
my  sister  and  can  afford  it,  so  why  shouldn't  I  accept 
it?" 

"Don't  you  think  she's  doing  more  than  her  duty 
by  entirely  supporting  me  and  not  allowing  me  to 
do  anything?"  the  mother  asked. 

"Well,  she  makes  four  times  as  much  as  I  do 
and  she  hardly  spends  a  thing  on  clothes,"  Susan 


80  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

insisted.  "It  costs  so  much  for  me  to  keep  up  with 
the  styles." 

"And  look  at  what  she  is  doing  for  Jimmie," 
Mrs.  Grant  rambled  on.  "Giving  him  that  special 
electrician's  course.  She's  a  wonderful  girl." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  she  is,"  Susan  acknowledged  a 
bit  grudgingly.  "But  don't  forget,  mama,  that  she 
doesn't  deserve  all  the  credit  for  it.  She  just  hap- 
pened to  fall  into  an  extra  amount  of  good  luck 
when  old  Carew  got  her  the  position  with  Mr. 
Thorne." 

"Luck  wouldn't  have  advanced  her  to  where  she 
is  to-day;  nothing  but  ability  and  hard  work  did 
that,"  Mrs.  Grant  protested  firmly. 

So  Norah  continued  to  bear  all  the  expenses,  to 
pay  for  Jimmie's  tuition  and  in  everything  to  assume 
the  entire  responsibility  of  the  head  of  the  house- 
hold. 

She  gloried  in  it  all;  it  was  the  thing  she  had 
dreamed  of  for  years  and  she  could  see  herself  ad- 
vancing further  and  further.  Mr.  Thorne  was 
lavish  in  his  praise  and  continued  encouragement. 

"You  are  a  most  unusual  girl,  Miss  Grant,"  he 
said  on  more  than  one  occasion.  "Few  women  dis- 
play such  perfect  understanding  of  the  general 
business  conditions  of  to-day.  Your  judgment  even 
at  the  present  time  is  often  superior  to  that  of  a 
great  many  men  I  know  who  have  been  in  business 
for  years,  so  I  can  imagine  what  it  will  be  after  a 
little  more  experience." 

All  this  was  delightfully  gratifying  to  Norah  and 
added  another  spark  to  her  already  brightly  burning 
flame  of  ambition. 

The  new  apartment  was  furnished  quite  plainly 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  81 

and  in  good  taste.  Norah  and  Susan  had  argu- 
ments over  the  selection  of  things  but  in  the  end 
Norah  won  out,  for  after  all  she  was  paying  for 
nearly  everything,  as  the  sale  of  the  Capp  Street 
furniture  brought  next  to  nothing. 

"Well,  there's  one  consolation,"  Susan  said  as 
she  shook  her  head  at  the  quiet  gray  rugs  and  simple 
wicker  pieces.  "When  I  have  a  home  of  my  own 
I  can  furnish  it  to  suit  myself.  This  place  has  about 
as  much  style  to  it  as  you  have  yourself,  Norah." 

"I  think  it's  lovely,"  Norah  answered,  look- 
ing around  proudly.  "It's  simple,  lovely;  just  the 
sort  of  home  I  always  wanted  mama  to  have." 

"It's  simple,  all  right;  I'll  agree  to  that,"  Susan 
laughed.  "But  I  don't  care.  I  won't  be  in  it  much 
outside  of  coming  home  to  sleep." 

"As  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  Jimmie  blurted  out, 
"I  liked  the  old  house  better.  First  of  all  we're 
packed  in  here  like  a  box  of  sardines,  me  sleeping 
in  a  wall  bed  in  the  front  room,  Susy  in  a  wall  bed 
in  the  dining  room  and  mother  and  Norah  in  the 
bedroom.  Too  bad  we  can't  find  somebody  to  sleep 
in  the  kitchen.  And,  besides,  I  miss  the  old  gang 
that  hangs  around  Capp  and  Seventeenth.  I  don't 
believe  in  people  moving  away  from  the  part  of 
town  they  were  brought  up  in — we  were  all  born 
and  raised  in  the  Mission  and  we  should  have  stayed 
there." 

"Why,  Jimmie!"  Norah  seemed  greatly  surprised. 
"I  thought  you  agreed  with  me  about  people  trying 
in  every  way  to  improve  themselves?" 

"Yes,  when  it  comes  to  studying  and  learning  new 
things,"  he  answered,  "but  not  when  it  comes  to 
trying  to  mix  with  people  outside  of  your  own  class. 


82  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Some  day  everyone  will  be  equal  and  then  things  will 
be  fairer." 

"Jimmie !"  Mrs.  Grant's  voice  was  full  of  alarm. 
"You  talk  as  if  you  were  developing  socialistic  ideas 
— that  school  doesn't  seem  to  be  doing  him  much 
good,  Norah.  He  probably  comes  in  contact  with  a 
lot  of  boys  who  are  responsible  for  these  new  ideas." 

"I'm  sure  Jimmie's  all  right,  mama,"  Norah 
answered  as  she  went  over  and  placed  her  hand  tend- 
erly on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "He's  just  a  little 
lonesome  for  his  friends,  that's  all.  Why  don't 
you  run  out  to  see  them  to-night,  Jimmie?  I'll  give 
you  some  extra  money  and  you  can  take  in  a  show 
if  you  want  to." 

"Would  I  like  to?  Try  me  and  see!"  Jimmie 
jumped  up  joyfully.  "You're  a  peach,  Norah,  and 
I  didn't  mean  all  that  stuff  I  said  a  few  minutes 
ago — honest,  I  didn't." 

Six  months  after  they  moved  to  Pine  street, 
Jimmie  came  home  one  evening  and  informed  the 
family  that  he  had  accepted  a  position  in  Los  Angeles 
as  assistant  electrician  at  one  of  the  moving-picture 
studios.  Mrs.  Grant  opposed  it  immediately. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  go  so  far  away  from  home, 
Jimmie,"  she  said,  trying  to  keep  back  her  tears. 
"After  all,  you're  my  baby  and  I  can't  let  you  go 
away  from  me." 

"Nonsense,  mother."  Jimmie  put  his  arms 
around  her  and  began  to  coax.  "I'm  some  baby — 
nearly  nineteen.  I  can't  stay  tied  to  your  apron 
strings  forever  and  this  is  a  wonderful  opportunity 
for  me  to  work  my  way  into  a  fine  position." 

"But  why  can't  you  work  your  way  up  in  San 
Francisco?  Why  must  you  go  to  Los  Angeles?" 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  83 

"Because  this  particular  position  happens  to  be 
in  Los  Angeles,  mother."  Jimmie  was  a  little  im- 
patient. "It  isn't  as  if  I  were  going  to  the  end  of 
the  world — it's  only  an  overnight  ride." 

"Just  the  same  it's  a  strange  city  for  you.  Re- 
member you  don't  know  a  soul  there.  Norah,  what 
do  you  think  about  it?"  As  usual  she  turned  to  her 
for  advice. 

"Why,  I  think  it's  a  splendid  chance  for  Jimmie, 
mama,  and  he  should  be  allowed  to  take  it.  He 
can  always  come  back  if  he  doesn't  like  it  and  the 
experience  will  do  him  good." 

After  a  great  deal  of  discussion,  Mrs.  Grant 
finally  yielded  to  Jimmied  coaxings  and  Norah's 
persuasions.  The  family  was  kept  busy  for  three 
days  before  Jimmie's  departure.  Mrs.  Grant  saw 
that  all  his  clothes  were  in  perfect  condition,  bought 
a  small  trunk  and  packed  it  for  him;  Norah  bought 
his  ticket  and  gave  him  fifty  dollars  to  tide  him  over 
the  first  week  until  he  received  his  pay.  Even  Susan 
contributed  her  share;  she  bought  him  two  neckties, 
a  pair  of  Boston  garters  and  remained  home  an 
evening  to  manicure  his  nails,  against  his  wishes. 

Jimmie  left  on  Saturday  and  they  all  accompanied 
him  across  the  bay  to  the  Oakland  mole  and  saw  him 
safely  aboard  the  "Owl."  Mrs.  Grant  tried  not  to 
cry  as  she  kissed  him  good-by. 

"Be  a  good  boy,  Jimmie,"  was  her  final  admo- 
nition, "and  always  remember  your  mother  and 
sisters." 

"I  will,  mother,"  he  promised,  "and  I'll  be  a  big 
success  and  send  for  you  all  to  come  and  spend  the 
summer  with  me." 

"That's   the  way  to   talk."      Susan  kissed   him. 


84  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"And  if  they  can't  come,  I  will;  I'm  crazy  to  see 
the  inside  of  a  studio." 

"Good-by,  Jimmie."  Norah  was  the  last  to 
speak.  "I  know  we'll  all  be  proud  of  you  some  day. 
Just  make  up  your  mind  to  work  hard  and  you're 
bound  to  succeed." 

"Good-by,  Norah."  He  kissed  her  affection- 
ately. "You've  been  awfully  good  to  me  and  I  won't 
disappoint  you." 

The  apartment  was  quiet  and  lonely  after  Jimmie 
left.  What  a  difference  a  boy  makes  in  a  home. 
They  missed  the  way  he  used  to  run  in  every  eve- 
ning, throw  his  coat  on  one  chair  and  his  cap  on 
another  while  he  always  asked  the  same  question: 
"What  have  you  for  dinner  to-night,  mother?  I'm 
hungry  as  a  bear." 

For  the  first  month  he  wrote  home  every  other 
day.  His  letters  were  full  of  enthusiasm  over  his 
work,  the  firm  which  employed  him  and  his  future 
prospects.  Then  he  told  them  he  would  be  obliged 
to  limit  his  letters  to  one  a  week,  as  he  was  so  busy 
and  compelled  to  work  overtime  he  couldn't  pos- 
sibly write  so  often.  He  always  assured  them  that 
he  was  doing  finely  and  would  surely  work  his  way 
up  in  time. 

Jimmie  had  been  in  Los  Angeles  about  four 
months  when  Susan  began  keeping  steady  company, 
as  she  termed  it,  with  Jack  Long,  a  young  automobile 
salesman  of  Oakland. 

He  was  a  good  looking  chap,  inclined  to  be  a 
bit  sporty  and  rather  given  to  boasting  about  his 
knowledge  of  the  automobile  business.  Susan  met 
him  at  a  party  one  night  and  was  favorably  im- 
pressed. And  he  thought  Susan  the  most  attractive 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  & 

girl  he  had  ever  met.  He  admired  her  blonde 
beauty,  and  her  rather  flashy  style  appealed  to  him. 
She  was  jolly  and  good  natured,  and  he  was  sure 
she  would  be  a  dandy  pal. 

From  that  night  they  began  going  about  to- 
gether. They  both  liked  the  same  things,  dances, 
theaters,  cafes;  and  in  every  way  they  were  thor- 
oughly congenial. 

One  Sunday  evening  Susan  invited  him  to  her 
home  for  dinner. 

"I  want  you  to  meet  my  mother  and  sister,  Jack," 
she  said.  "Mother's  a  dear,  but  I'm  afraid  you 
won't  look  at  me  again  after  you  meet  Norah." 

"Why,  is  she  such  a  beauty?"  He  was  curious. 
"She'll  have  to  go  some  to  outdo  you,  girlie." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  exactly  call  Norah  a  beauty," 
she  answered,  "although  she  could  improve  herself 
a  hundred  per  cent  if  she'd  bother  a  little  about 
clothes,  but  she's  so  clever  you  never  met  anyone 
like  her.  W'hen  it  comes  to  business  she's  a 
wonder." 

"Well,"  announced  Jack,  as  he  gave  Susan's  well 
manicured  hand  a  little  squeeze,  "I,  for  one,  never 
cared  about  brainy  women, — always  trying  to  put 
one  over  on  the  men.  Give  me  a  pretty  woman 
and  a  good  fellow  and  that's  all  I  ask."  He  threw 
her  an  admiring  glance,  which  she  accepted  lan- 
guishingly. 

Both  Mrs.  Grant  and  Norah  liked  Jack  Long. 
True,  he  was  a  bit  slangy  and  boastful  at  times,  but 
he  was  a  wholesome  sort  of  chap  and  he  wore  well. 
He  was  at  his  best  with  his  amusing  stories  about 
his  experiences  while  trying  to  sell  automobiles,  and 
the  evening  passed  pleasantly. 


86  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

A  month  later  Susan  and  Jack  were  engage'd. 
Mrs.  Grant  was  well  pleased;  Jack  was  kind  and 
attentive  to  her  and  she  thought  Susan  was  doing 
exceedingly  well. 

"Of  course  he  isn't  rich,"  she  began  talking  it 
over  with  Norah,  "but  neither  was  your  father,  and 
we  were  very  happy.  Money  isn't  everything  and 
he  makes  a  good  living.  Just  think;  he  has  enough 
money  saved  up  to  make  a  first  payment  on  a  little 
bungalow  and  furnish  it — that's  a  lot  more  than  I 
had  when  I  married.'* 

"I  know,  mama,"  Norah  answered,  "but  I  don't 
think  it  took  as  much  to  live  on  then  as  it  does  now. 
Don't  you  think  they  ought  to  rent  a  little  place 
instead  of  starting  off  by  running  in  debt  and  paying 
interest  every  month?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  anything  of  the  kind."  For 
once  Mrs.  Grant  answered  the  daughter  she  loved 
and  a  bit  feared,  with  something  of  asperity.  There 
were  some  things  she  was  sure  she  knew  more  about 
than  Norah.  One  could  be  fallible,  and  when  it 
came  to  courtship  and  marriage — and  a  love  nest — 
"There's  nothing  like  owning  your  own  home,  and 
why  should  they  be  paying  rent  when  they  might  be 
buying  a  place  of  their  own?" 

"Maybe  you're  right,  dear,  but  I  can't  see  it  that 
way."  Norah  smiled.  "At  all  events  you  will  en- 
joy getting  Susan's  trousseau  and  getting  ready  for 
the  wedding,  won't  you?" 

"Indeed,  I  will!  I  only  pray,  Norah,  you  will 
give  me  the  joy  of  doing  the  same  for  you  before 
I  die!" 

"Oh.  mama!"  Norah  shook  her  head.  "The 
idea  of  you  talking  about  dying — why,  you're  years 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  87 

younger  in  your  actions  than  many  a  girl  of 
eighteen." 

Susan  gave  up  her  position  the  following  week. 
She  was  going  to  be  married  in  two  months  and 
there  was  a  great  deal  to  do  in  the  meantime.  Norah 
made  it  very  easy  for  her. 

"I'll  buy  your  trousseau  for  you,  Susy  dear,"  she 
said  warmly.  "I'll  use  the  money  I  made  from  the 
stock  Mr.  Thorne  gave  me  for  Christmas,  and 
although  we  may  not  be  able  to  buy  very  elaborate 
things  I  think  we  can  do  very  well." 

"Norah!  Norah!  you're  a  darling!"  Susan  hugged 
her.  "Maybe  you'll  be  getting  married  some  day, 
and  I'll  be  in  a  position  to"4o  as  much  for  you." 

"Don't  make  any  rash  promises,"  Norah  laughed. 
"That  will  be  a  long  ways  off  and  by  that  time  you 
may  have  a  family  of  your  own  to  look  after." 


I 


CHAPTER  IX 

T'S  a  dear  little  place,"  agreed  Norah  Grant,  as 
she  looked  about  the  home  Susan  and  Jack  had 
made  for  themselves,  "but " 

"Oh,  Norah,  don't — don't  be  a  wet  blanket  for 
once!" 

Susan,  a  more  tender,  gentle  Susan  than  her  usual 
self,  in  the  first  flush  of  happiness  of  a  honeymoon 
that  was  living  up  to  all  requirements,  flew  to  her 
sister's  side  and  impulsively  flung  her  arms  about  her. 

"We  love  it,  Jack  and  I — indeed,  we  do, — and 
we're  going  to  do  such  wonderful  things!  Why, 
you  ought  to  know  all  that  Jack  is  planning!  Even 
you,  with  all  your  strict  ideas  of  business,  couldn't  be 
more  enthusiastic  than  he!  Oh,  you'll  see!  You'll 
see  what  we'll  do!"  Norah  smiled  indulgently  at  the 
effervescence  of  the  little  sister  she  had  come  to  know 
knew  so  little  of  the  value  of  money  and  the  worth 
of  things  as  she,  herself,  in  a  clear-headed,  calcu- 
lating way,  had  come  to  know  them.  She  felt  much 
as  a  mother  might  toward  a  misunderstanding  child 
as  the  young  wife  prattled  on. 

"Do  you  know  what  he  is  going  to  do,  now?  He 
has  measured  the  distance  between  this  bungalow 
and  the  one  next,  and  he's  found  there's  oodles  of 
room  for  a  driveway,  so  we're  going  to  have  a 
garage  in  the  back, — just  think  of  it! — and  we're 
going  to  have  a  car  and — "  her  cheeks  flushed 
warmly  beneath  her  rouge  from  happiness,  just  as 

88 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  89 

Norah  remembered  them  to  have  flushed  when,  as 
a  child,  Susan  had  planned  things  for  Christmas  that 
would  have  been  far  from  being  possible.  "And," 
Susan  hurried  on,  "he  says  there  isn't  a  bit  of  doubt 
I  can  soon  drive  it  myself,  and  I'll  come  and  take 
you  out,  and " 

For  the  moment  Norah  wasn't  listening  to  the 
plans  of  her  sister.  Her  mind  had  flown  to  the 
possibilities  of  what  Susan  and  Jack  might  be  facing 
in  their  careless  indifference  to  money  matters.  In 
her  heart,  Norah  did  not  approve  of  all  this  which 
she  inwardly  characterized  as  extravagance  on  the 
part  of  the  newly  weds.  The  stern  necessity  of  mak- 
ing her  own  way  since  childhood;  the  sternness  of  life 
itself  unless  one  could  meet  responsibilities  in  a 
monetary  way,  had  been  borne  in  on  her  early 
when  she  had  so  ambitiously  taken  on  herself  the 
responsibility  of  being  the  head  of  a  family.  She  was 
wondering  what  might  happen  to  them,  her  own 
brain  rapidly  calculating  what  she  might  do  in  case 
of  need.  Would  she  be  able  to  do  all  that  she  wished 
for  Susan,  as  well  as  for  her  mother,  in  case  Susan 
and  Jack  went  on  the  rocks,  as  she  feared  they  might, 
in  their  youthful  belief  that  all  good  things  would 
come  to  them  that  wanted  them,  instead  of  to  them 
that  worked  and  saved  for  them. 

But  she  could  not  tell  Susan,  this  new,  tenderer 
Susan,  what  she  was  thinking.  It  would  have  been 
like  taking  away  from  a  child  her  Santa  Claus  doll. 

Susan  and  Jack  had  been  married  a  month. 
Norah  had,  of  course,  been  over  to  the  bungalow 
with  her  mother  and  Susan,  many  times,  but  this  was 
the  first  time  she  had  dropped  in  unannounced,  or 
had  time  to  see  just  how  the  two  were  living  day  by 


90  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

(day,  and  she  had  been  just  a  bit  frightened  by  the 
signs  of  extravagance, — new  things  bought  since  the 
furnishing  of  the  honeymoon  cottage;  tradespeople 
turned  away  with  a  promise  instead  of  payment. 

It  was  a  pretty  place,  though.  She  had  to  admit 
that, — and  there  would  have  been  others,  less  far- 
seeing  than  Norah  Grant  who  might  have  thought 
the  arrangement  a  splendid  one, — who  would  not 
have  been  given  a  vision  of  any  disaster  ever  ap- 
proaching. There  were  so  many  to  countenance,  to 
approve,  the  idea  of  buying  instead  of  renting.  It 
was  the  furnishing,  though,  of  which  Norah  most 
disapproved,  even  as  she  had  on  her  first  view  of  it. 
But  she  had  come  to  realize  that  it  expressed  Susan, 
and  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  say  nothing, 
though  she  remembered  with  what  difficulty  she  had 
restrained  her  groan  at  her  first  vision  of  the  place. 

Susan's  bungalow  was  one  of  twelve  that  had  just 
been  erected  about  three  blocks  from  the  Piedmont 
Key  Route  terminal.  To  most  people,  it  had  been 
considered  a  good  buy  at  four  thousand, — with  a 
cash  payment  of  five  hundred,  and  forty  dollars 
monthly.  Susan  had  enthused  to  an  overflowing 
effervescence  as  she  had  told  her  mother  and  Norah 
about  it  for  the  first  time. 

"Built-in  book  cases,"  she  announced,  "and  the 
dining  room  has  a  buffet,  and  there's  the  coziest 
breakfast  nook  in  the  kitchen!  And  you  ought  to 
see  the  bedrooms!  Three  of  them,  and  sunny! 
And  then  the  lawn!  All  planted,  already,  and  a  real, 
real  backyard!" 

Susan  had  everything  her  own  way  when  it  came 
to  furnishing  the  bungalow.  Jack  thought  all  of  her 
selections  the  most  admirable,  and  had  a  word  of 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  91 

praise  for  each  thing  she  purchased.  Mrs.  Grant 
and  Norah  both  offered  suggestions  but  Susan  re- 
fused to  listen. 

"You  did  anything  you  pleased  with  the  apart- 
ment, and  I  hadn't  a  thing  to  say.  Now,  with  my  own 
home  it's  different.  Jack  says  my  taste  is  perfect — 
we  both  like  everything  bright  and  cheerful,  and  you 
like  it  just  the  opposite." 

"All  right,  Susy,  we  won't  say  another  word," 
Norah  gave  in,  "only  I  do  think  you'll  get  dread- 
fully tired  of  the  red  carpet  in  the  hall  and  dining 
room." 

"There  is  nothing  so  hard  to  keep  clean  as  red 
carpet,"  Mrs.  Grant  interposed  hesitatingly,  for  she 
understood  the  attitude  of  her  child  in  wanting  to 
express  only  herself  in  this,  the  first  home  of  her 
own. 

"Well,  I  haven't  a  thing  to  do  but  take  care  of 
my  house  and  as  soon  as  Jack  can  afford  it  a  little 
better  we're  going  to  have  a  girl."  Susan  passed  the 
matter  off  as  one  of  small  consideration. 

When  the  home  was  finished,  Susan  and  Jack  had 
all  the  pride  of  accomplishment  in  it.  They  stood  in 
the  center  of  each  room  gazing  about  them 
rapturously.  Jack  gave  Susan  the  credit  for  it  all. 

"You've  sure  made  a  fine  job  of  it,  girlie,"  he  com- 
plimented. "Wait  till  some  of  my  friends  see  it. 
Won't  they  be  jealous — though !" 

Norah  had  first  gone  over  with  Sqsan  and  Jack 
the  Sunday  before  they  were  to  be  married.  As  she 
followed  them  about  from  room  to  room,  she  knew 
she  was  expected  to  be  lavish  in  her  praise.  Her 
compassion  told  her  that  to  be  truthful  to  these  two 
young  people  would  be  utterly  out  of  the  question. 


92  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

They  would  not  appreciate  her  candidness  and  would 
in  all  probability  misconstrue  her  meaning  and  dis- 
like her  were  she  to  dare  to  say  what  she  thought. 

So  she  decided  for  diplomacy  and  when  Susan  ex- 
claimed breathlessly:  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
it  all?"  she  put  her  arms  tenderly  about  her  little 
sister  and,  smiling  at  Jack,  said,  with  an  air  of 
sincerity:  "I  know  you  are  going  to  be  the  two 
happiest  people  in  the  world  in  this  little  home!" 

As  they  all  crossed  back  on  the  boat  Norah  could 
not  help  wondering  over  the  difference  between  Susan 
and  herself.  For  sisters  they  were  so  unlike  in  every- 
thing. This  furnishing  of  the  home  was  only  one 
instance.  Norah  closed  her  eyes  to  shut  out  the 
memory  of  the  green  living  room,  red  dining  room, 
and  the  pink,  blue  and  yellow  bedrooms,  each  one 
carried  out  in  detail,  even  to  the  paper  waste-baskets 
in  the  corners. 

Susan  and  Jack's  was  a  quiet  home  wedding  to 
which  only  a  few  of  the  nearest  relatives  were  in- 
vited. There  were,  to  begin  with,  four  cousins  of 
Susan's  who  came  from  San  Leandro.  It  was  true 
she  hadn't  seen  them  for  years,  but  she  felt  that  she 
must  make  some  sort  of  a  showing  at  her  wedding, 
outside  of  her  mother  and  sister,  for  it  had  been  a 
disappointment  when  Jimmie  had  written  it  would  be 
impossible  to  come,  since  they  were  making  a  new 
picture  at  the  studio  in  which  he  was  working,  which 
kept  him  day  and  night.  He  did  send  twenty-five 
dollars  for  a  wedding  present,  however,  a  gift  which 
Susan  at  once  transmuted  into  a  hundred-piece  dinner 
set  of  white  and  gold  with  pink  rosebuds  and  green 
leaves  scattered  here  and  there. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  93 

Then  there  was  Jack's  married  sister,  her  husband 
and  two  boisterous  children,  a  boy  and  girl  of  eight 
and  ten;  and  his  maiden  aunt.  Norah  could  not  re- 
strain a  smile  at  the  antics  of  the  maiden  lady.  She 
wept  copiously  if  one  looked  at  her,  and  otherwise 
behaved  as  though  she  were  officiating  at  the 
obsequies  of  her  nephew. 

"Poor  boy!"  she  remarked  again  and  again,  and 
sigh  voluminously.  For  all  of  her  attitude  she  might 
have  been  bidding  Jack  good-by  forever. 

In  her  suit  and  hat  of  light  gray  and  her  white  fox 
fur,  Susan  made  a  most  attractive  bride.  The  white 
fox  had  come  done  up  in  quantities  of  tissue  paper 
with  appropriate  greetings  from  the  La  Rose 
parlors. 

It  was  not  until  after  Jack  and  Susan  had  been 
gone  for  some  hours  in  their  roadster,  borrowed 
from  Jack's  firm  for  the  occasion,  bound  for  Del 
Monte,  and  after  the  last  lingering  guest  had  bidden 
farewell,  that  Norah  and  her  mother  were  alone. 
And  not  until  then  that  Mrs.  Grant  gave  way  to  the 
first  burst  of  tears,  the  proper  accompaniment  to  any 
wedding  with  those  of  her  own  generation.  In  con- 
sideration of  Norah,  and  of  Susan,  who  frankly 
hated  tears,  she  had  refrained,  but  it  was  Norah 
who,  leaving  the  door,  after  speeding  the  last  guest, 
found  the  mother  huddled  in  the  low  rocker  in  the 
sitting  room,  sobbing  brokenly. 

"Mama,  dear,  you  mustn't,  you  really  mustn't," 
she  protested,  as,  with  her  own  handkerchief  she 
started  to  wipe  away  the  tears.  "Why,  I'd  think 
you'd  be  glad  to  know  Susy  is  as  happy  as  she  is  1" 

"I  am — I   am,"   moaned  Mrs.   Grant,   "but  oh, 


94  THE  LOSING   GAIN 

dear,  you  don't  understand.  It  seems  like  I'm 
losing  her!  One  by  one,  they're  leaving  me — first 
Jimmie,  now  Susan, — I — I — suppose  you'll  go  next." 

Exasperated,  though  indulgent,  Norah  repressed 
a  frown. 

"Why,  dear  little  mother,"  she  asked,  "where 
would  I  go?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — maybe  on  a  business  trip  to 
a  foreign  country.  Somehow,  I  can't  think  of  you 
getting  married,  though,  I — I  wish  you  would!" 

Purposely  ignoring  the  plaintive  plea  in  the  latter 
part  of  her  mother's  wail,  Norah  soothed  her. 
"When  I  go  on  any  business  trip,"  she  said,  "I'm 
going  to  take  you  with  me — you  needn't  fear  any 
separation  from  me." 

Much  as  Norah  had  expected,  life  did  not  hold 
much  of  a  serious  aspect  for  either  Susan  or  Jack  on 
their  return  from  Del  Monte  to  take  up  their  busi- 
ness of  living.  Life  could  not  mean  much  of  serious- 
ness to  Susan,  though  Norah  had  hoped  much  for 
the  chastening  influence  of  marriage  and  the  new 
responsibilities.  Susan  was  the  same  old  Susan; 
Jack  the  same  old  Jack.  For  them  life  was  one 
round  of  pleasure.  For,  of  course,  their  friends  all 
gave  parties  in  their  honor  and  it  was  no  more  than 
natural  that  they  should  entertain  in  return.  They 
wanted  their  friends  to  see  their  little  bungalow;  to 
see  them  a  part  of  it;  and  the  days  and  nights  raced 
on  happily  between  its  stuccoed  walls.  They  played 
at  housekeeping  much  as  two  children  might  have  in 
a  dry-goods  box  house.  Even  cooking  was  not  much 
in  their  routine.  If  they  had  company,  Susan  would 
cook.  If  not,  there  were  so  many  other  resources; 
eating  with  the  friends  who  were  so  generous  with 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  95 

invitations;  dining  with  Susan's  mother  at  least  two 
or  three  times  a  week. 

"It's  so  convenient  to  go  to  mama's  for  dinner," 
Susan  told  her  friends,  "and  we  can  always  get  away 
in  time  to  go  to  a  dance  or  a  show  and  neither  she 
nor  Norah  care  at  all.  They're  always  glad  to  see 
us  have  a  good  time." 

"Norah,"  Mrs.  Grant  said  at  the  table  one  eve- 
ning after  she  had  returned  from  spending  the  day  in 
Piedmont,  "Susy's  a  dreadful  housekeeper.  Every- 
thing in  the  place  was  topsy-turvy  when  I  got  there 
and  it  was  almost  twelve  o'clock.  They  had  com- 
pany for  dinner  last  night  and  all  the  dishes  were 
still  on  the  dining  room  table." 

"Perhaps  the  company  stayed  so  late  she  couldn't 
straighten  things."  Norah  tried  to  make  excuses  for 
her  sister. 

"And  that  wasn't  all,"  her  mother  continued,  not 
convinced.  "Susy  was  still  in  bed  when  I  got  there — 
reading  a  novel.  Said  she  hadn't  any  idea  it  was  so 
late.  And  when  I  started  to  clear  up  the  place  and 
went  into  the  kitchen  I  found  the  sink  stacked  with 
dishes  that  must  have  been  there  a  couple  of  days." 

"What  did  Susy  say  about  it?" 

"Said  the  woman  was  coming  to  give  the  house  a 
general  cleaning  to-morrow  and  she  would  do  dishes 
and  all." 

"You  know,  mama,  Susy  never  had  any  experience 
at  housekeeping.  I  suppose  I'd  do  the  same  if  I 
were  in  her  place." 

"No,  you  would  not,  Norah  Grant."  Her  mother 
was  most  emphatic.  "You're  different.  No  matter 
what  you  do,  you  always  do  it  well." 

"Susy's  only  been  married  three  months  and  she 


96  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

hasn't  settled  down  yet,"  Norah  averred.  "Give 
her  a  little  time  and  she'll  be  all  right." 

But  neither  Susan  nor  Jack  ever  did  settle  down. 
After  five  years  of  married  life  they  were  still  run- 
ning wild  in  spite  of  their  two  husky  little  sons. 

Robert  was  born  during  the  third  year  of  their 
marriage  and  Junior  a  year  later.  Mrs.  Grant  had 
hoped  that  motherhood  would  bring  to  Susan  a 
realization  of  her  responsibilities  and  help  Jack  to 
assume  his  own.  But  just  as  soon  as  Susan  was  able 
to  be  up  and  about  they  procured  the  services  of  a 
middle-aged  woman  to  take  entire  charge  of  the 
baby  and  they  were  free  to  come  and  go  as  before. 
Mrs.  Ward  was  still  with  them  when  Junior  was 
born,  so  it  was  the  same  thing  over  again. 

Withal,  though,  the  Longs  were  as  happy  as  the 
average  couple  who  live  from  day  to  day  without  any 
definite  purpose  in  view  or  plans  for  making  head- 
way. Jack  earned  a  good  salary  beside  his  com- 
missions; still  they  were  always  in  debt.  They  still 
owed  quite  a  sum  on  their  home  as  they  had  paid 
merely  the  interest  and  but  little  on  the  principal.  In 
five  years  they  had  bought  three  different  auto- 
mobiles, always  selling  before  they  made  their  final 
payment  and  investing  in  a  better  one,  so  that  they 
never  managed  really  to  own  one. 

Susan  solved  all  her  problems  by  employing  the 
installment  plan  system.  Her  piano,  victrola,  electric 
sewing  machine  and  even  her  "nearly"  sealskin  coat 
were  all  bought  in  this  way.  Norah  tried  to  explain 
the  error  of  things  to  her  one  day  when  they  were 
lunching  at  the  Woman's  Exchange.  Susan  had  been 
enthusing  over  a  vacuum  cleaner  a  friend  of  hers  had 
purchased. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  97 

"It's  a  wonder,"  she  said,  "and  makes  the  work  so 
easy.  I've  a  good  mind  to  get  one;  only  five  dollars 
down  and  a  dollar  a  week." 

"But,  Susan!"  Norah  seemed  surprised.  "You're 
paying  off  so  many  things  all  the  time  I  should  think 
you'd  go  wild  trying  to  keep  track  of  them  all." 

"I  don't  have  to  keep  track  of  them,"  Susan 
laughed.  "They  never  fail  to  send  me  the  notices  to 
the  minute  when  the  payments  fall  due." 

"Do  you  and  Jack  ever  stop  to  realize  that  you're 
paying  interest  on  things  all  the  time,  and  that  you 
can  never  make  any  headway?" 

"Well,  what's  the  difference,  Norah,  as  long  as 
you  get  what  you  want?  For  my  part,"  Susan  de- 
clared firmly,  "I  think  it's  a  perfectly  wonderful  way 
for  people  who  haven't  much  money." 

So  Norah  saw  the  futility  of  argument  and 
changed  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  X 

SUSAN  had  been  married  five  years  when  news 
came  from  Jimmie,  announcing  his  engagement 
to  Miss  Doris  Webster. 

"Doris  is  a  wonderful  girl,"  he  wrote,  "and  I 
know  you  will  all  love  her.  At  present  she  is  only 
playing  extras,  but  I  know  some  day  she  will  be  a 
great  star.  She  is  beautiful  and  has  a  lot  of  talent. 
She  has  consented  to  marry  me  only  on  condition  that 
she  be  allowed  to  keep  up  her  work  and  remain  per- 
fectly independent.  She's  like  Norah  that  way. 
We'll  get  along  fine  because  the  firm  is  going  to  give 
me  another  raise.  I'll  still  be  able  to  send  you  a 
little  money  every  month.  I  wish  we  could  come  to 
San  Francisco  for  our  honeymoon  but  I  don't  think 
we  will  be  able  to  stay  away  that  long.  Doris  is 
going  to  write  to  you  and  I  hope  you  will  all  try  to 
like  her  for  my  sake." 

Mrs.  Grant  was  inclined  to  be  doubtful.  "It 
doesn't  seem  to  me  as  if  an  actress  could  make  him 
a  very  good  wife,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  "She'll 
be  all  taken  up  wijh  her  art  and  not  find  time  to  be 
domesticated." 

"That  doesn't  necessarily  have  to  be  the  case, 
mama."  Norah  wanted  to  be  just,  although  she,  too, 
was  not  without  her  doubts  as  to  the  expediency  of 
such  a  mating  as  Jimmie  proposed.  "Plenty  of 
women  not  in  the  least  way  connected  with  the  stage 
or  the  movies  are  not  at  all  inclined  toward 
domesticity.  Take  Susy  for  example." 

98 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  99 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you're  right,"  Mrs.  Grant  ad- 
mitted, "but  I  can't  picture  Jimmie  marrying  an 
actress.  We've  never  had  one  in  the  family  before." 

Norah  smiled  at  her  mother's  plaintiveness. 

"What  is  that  little  saying  they  attribute  to  some 
noted  person  or  other,"  she  asked  irrelevantly, 
"about  'actresses  will  happen  in  the  best  regulated 
families'?" 

But  to  Susan  the  news  was  of  huge  importance. 

"Wonderful,"  she  enthused,  "our  sister-in-law  a 
great  star  like  Mary  Pickford!  Maybe  we'll  have 
a  chance  to  put  Robert  and  Junior  in  the  pictures." 

"She's  not  a  star  yet,"  Norah  corrected.    "Jimmie 

J  +J 

only  said  he  believed  she  would  be  some  day.  But 
the  main  thing  is  that  Jimmie  loves  her  and  it's  our 
duty  to  write  her  a  cordial  letter  and  welcome  her 
into  the  family." 

There  was  given  Norah  Grant,  though,  more  food 
for  thought  in  this  missive  from  her  brother  and 
the  plans  he  was  making  for  his  future  life  than  to 
any  other  of  the  less  deeply  thinking  members  of  the 
Grant  family. 

"Mama,"  she  suggested  at  the  first  moment  they 
could  talk  things  over  alone,  "don't  you  think  you 
had  better  tell  Jimmie  to  stop  sending  you  an  allow- 
ance? You  really  don't  need  it  and  if  he's  going  to 
be  married  it  seems  to  me  he  will  be  able  to  use  all 
of  his  salary  himself.  And  now,  really,  isn't  all  you 
'ever  do  with  it  is  to  give  it  to  Susy?" 

Somewhat  reluctantly  the  mother  admitted  it. 

"But  Susy,"  she  hesitated,  "well — er — you  know 
how  it  is  well  enough.  Susy  seems  somehow  always 
to  need  it,  and — and — I " 


100  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Norah  waved  aside  the  half  apology  and  spoke 
rather  brusquely: 

"I  don't  think  it's  quite  fair  to  give  Jimmie's 
money  to  Susy  now  that  he  will  have  a  wife  of  his 
own.  I'll  give  you  whatever  you  have  been  receiving 
from  Jimmie  and  I'll  never  ask  you  how  you  spend 
it." 

"Of  all  the  inconsistency!"  Mrs.  Grant  dropped 
into  her  rocker  as  she  addressed  the  world  at  large. 
"She  doesn't  think  it's  fair  to  give  Jimmie's  money 
to  Susy  and  yet  she's  going  to  give  me  a  like  sum  and 
never  ask  what  I  do  with  it,  knowing  perfectly  well 
that  I'll  give  it  to  Susy." 

"That's  a  different  thing,  mama.  I  can  afford  it 
a  whole  lot  easier  than  Jimmie." 

So  it  was  that  not  the  smallest  of  James  Grant's 
wedding  presents  when  he  and  Doris  were  married 
the  following  month  was  that  letter  from  his  mother 
telling  him  that  henceforth  he  need  make  her  no  allow- 
ance, as  she  was  plentifully  provided  for,  and  she 
felt  sure  he  could  use  all  his  salary  himself.  Jimmie 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  After  the  mounting  costs 
of  setting  up  a  home  of  his  own,  he  had  been  wonder- 
ing how  he  was  going  to  live  up  to  his  promise. 

It  had  been  a  disappointment  both  to  Norah  and 
her  mother  that  they  had  not  been  able  to  attend 
Jimmie's  wedding,  but  Norah's  business  had  been  so 
pressing  that  it  had  been  an  impossibility. 

"We'll  come  in  the  summer  and  make  you  a  long 
visit,"  she  wired  her  brother. 

But,  as  to  hope  is  eternal,  so  to  plan  is  as  human, 
and  without  reason  save  as  associated  with  that  same 
hope. 

Norah,  busy  as  always  with  her  typewriter  and 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  101 

correspondence  a  short  time  after  Jimmie's  wedding, 
dropped  both,  with  a  suddenness  that  she  had  never 
done  before,  one  day  when  the  telephone  tinkled  be- 
side her  and  she  lifted  it  down  to  hear  a  summons  that 
was  more  compelling  than  any  work  she  had  ever 
thought  of. 

"Your  mother  is  ill,  Miss  Grant,"  came  a  strange 
voice  over  the  wire.  "I — we — thought  it  best  to  let 
you  know — can  you  come?" 

Could  she  come? 

In  record  time,  Norah  Grant's  hat  was  on  her 
head  in  some  fashion  and  she  was  speeding  down  the 
stairway  of  the  office  building,  not  waiting  for  even 
the  efficient  elevator  service.  The  time  for  her  to 
reach  home  seemed  interminable,  but  it  was  actually 
made  in  a  quarter  of  the  time  it  usually  took  her  to 
traverse  the  distance. 

Breathless  as  she  reached  her  apartment,  she  was 
met  by  a  woman  she  did  not  know,  but  whom  she  had 
seen  on  occasions,  and  knew  to  be  her  next  door 
neighbor,  Mrs.  Duncan,  the  one  person  in  the  new 
surroundings  with  whom  her  mother,  in  her  loneli- 
ness, had  made  friends. 

"Now,  don't  be  too  worried,  Miss  Grant,"  the 
elderly,  fussy,  lady  assured  her.  "It  may  not  be  much 
— but  we  thought " 

"What  is  wrong?"  asked  Norah  breathlessly. 
"Where  is  she?" 

Mrs.  Duncan  nodded  toward  the  bedroom. 

"I  was  in  here  talking  to  her,  getting  her  recipe 
for  peach  short  cake, — that  one  you  are  all  so  fond 
of,"  she  started  to  explain  garrulously,  to  the  girl's 
great  impatience  "and  she  slipped  off  her  chair, — 
just  like  that,  and " 


102  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

But  Norah  wasn't  listening.  Already  she  had 
flown  to  the  bedroom  and  had  dropped  on  her  knees 
as  she  caressed  the  still  form  of  her  mother  and 
called  on  her  in  endearing  terms. 

"Oh,  mama !  mama !  Answer  me,  won't  you, 
dear?"  she  moaned,  but  the  form  on  the  bed  with 
its  waxen  features  might  have  been  carven  of  stone 
for  all  the  response  to  the  bitter  cry.  Norah's  head, 
held  over  the  mother  heart,  heard  a  faint  flutter. 
She  was  unheeding  the  words  of  Mrs.  Duncan  who, 
backed  up  by  two  other  neighbors,  was  still  recount- 
ing her  version  of  the  happening. 

44 — and  I  picked  her  up,  and  asked  her  to  speak  to 
me,  and  when  she  didn't  I  called  out  for  Mrs. 
Grayson  here,  and  we  got  her  into  the  bed,  and  we 
thought  it  was  just  a  fainting  spell  at  first,  and 
then " 

Norah  turned  on  the  garrulous  one  fiercely. 

<4Why  hasn't  somebody  called  a  doctor?"  she 
cried. 

<4Mrs.  Williams  is  telephoning  for  one  now. 
She " 

But  she  was  cut  short  by  that  lady  in  question  who 
rushed  in  breathlessly. 

"I  reached  Dr.  Rogers  at  his  office,"  she  panted. 
"He  said  he  had  a  waiting  room  full  of  patients, 
but  he  would  come  right  up.  He's  my  own 
physician,"  she  interpolated  as  explanation  to  the 
girl  whose  expression  was  inquiring.  "His  office  is 
at  Stockton  and  Geary,  so  he  can  easily  get  here  in  a 
very  few  minutes.  Does  she  show  any  signs  of  re- 
viving?" 

"No  !  No  !"  A  sob  broke  from  Norah's  throat. 
"Surely  you  don't  think  she's — she's  dead?" 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  103 

"No,  dear.'"  Mrs.  Duncan  was  quite  positive  in 
her  answer  as  she  bent  down  and  placed  her  head 
over  Mrs.  Grant's  heart.  "I  can  hear  her  heart 
although  the  beat  is  very  faint." 

"Why  doesn't  the  doctor  come?"  Norah  rushed 
impatiently  to  the  window.  "Is  he  very  good,  Mrs. 
Williams?" 

"I  have  all  the  confidence  in  the  world  in  him. 
He's  been  our  family  physician  for  five  years.  His 
father  was  Dr.  Peter  Rogers,  one  of  the  most 
famous  surgeons  in  the  country,  and  after  his  death 
five  years  ago  his  son  took  over  his  entire  practice." 

"There!"  Norah  pointed  excitedly  to  the  street 
below  from  which  a  mari\was  alighting  from  a  taxi- 
cab.  "Isn't  that  the  doctor  now?" 

The  neighbor  woman,  standing  back  of  her, 
nodded.  "Yes,— I'll  go  let  him  in." 

There  was  small  time  for  Dr.  Rogers  to 
notice  anything  within  the  next  few  moments  save 
the  patient  who  lay  so  still  on  the  bed.  After  what 
seemed  an  interminable  period  to  Norah,  though, 
standing  still  as  a  statue  herself  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  bed,  and  breathless,  he  looked  up,  and  his  eyes 
met  hers  across  the  white  covered  bed  with  its  all  but 
lifeless  burden.  A  smile  lighted  his  eyes,  a  smile  of 
professional  sympathy. 

"A  relative?"  he  asked  the  girl,  but  her  only 
answer  was  a  nod.  She  was  too  intent  on  her  mother 
to  speak.  It  was  Mrs.  Williamr  who  answered. 
"Mrs.  Grant's  daughter,"  she  introduced,  apologeti- 
cally. "There  wasn't  time — before Dr. 

Rogers  nodded  understandingly  as  he  laid  his  stetho- 
scope on  the  nearby  table,  but  when  he  spoke,  it  was 
to  Norah,  tense  in  her  misery  of  apprehension. 


104  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"She's  coming  around  all  right,"  he  announced. 

"What — what  is  it,  doctor?"  Norah  could  not 
quite  understand  her  own  inability  to  use  her  vocal 
cords,  she,  always  so  cool,  so  self-possessed,  so  much 
mistress  of  every  situation  as  she  had  schooled  her- 
self to  be.  For  just  a  moment,  the  doctor  hesitated; 
was  as  though  he  could  hardly  find  words  to  tell  the 
truth  to  this  girl  with  the  anguished  eyes. 

"A  paralytic  stroke,  I'm  afraid,"  he  answered  as 
gently  as  might  be. 

For  a  moment  Norah  swayed,  her  hand  clutching 
the  bed  for  support,  the  other  held  tightly  across  her 
mouth  to  force  back  the  cry  that  rose  to  her  lips. 
Her  eyes  closed  and  she  seemed  about  to  drop.  In 
a  bound  Dr.  Rogers  was  by  her  side,  gently  forcing 
her  into  a  chair. 

"There's  no  need  for  this,  Miss  Grant,"  he  said, 
professionally  stern.  "Your  mother  will  soon  be 
conscious." 

"But  paralyzed !  Paralyzed !"  Her  voice  rose  to  a 
wail.  She  could  not  seem  fully  to  realize  all  that  the 
information  meant,  but  what  she  did,  meant  disaster. 

Before  she  could  utter  another  word,  Mrs. 
Grant's  eyes  opened  slowly  and  she  glanced  about, 
bewildered. 

"Norah  !"  she  whispered  weakly. 

Once  more  the  girl  was  on  her  knees  beside  her 
mother,  her  arms  about  her,  cooing,  soothing.  "Yes, 
mama,  dear,  I'm  here!  Feeling  better?" 

"Yes,"  hesitantly,  " — but  I — I'm  so  weak, — what 
happened?" 

"Just  a  little  fainting  spell,  Mrs.  Grant," 
answered  the  doctor  she  had  not  seen  before,  and  on 
whom  she  gazed  in  alarm.  "Here,"  he  held  out  a 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  105 

pellet  and  a  plass  of  water,  "drink  this,  and  you'll 
feel  stronger  soon."  As  she  complied,  her  head  held 
up  by  Norah,  she  smiled  wanly.  "Am  I  sick  enough 
to  have  a  doctor?  I've  never  been  sick  in  my 
life " 

"Then  you  can  hope  to  be  up  and  about  as  usual," 
was  the  physician's  rejoinder,  "if  you'll  do  as  I  say, — 
for  one  thing  you  must  stay  in  bed  for  a  few  days, 
and " 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  I'll  be  able  to  be  up  in  the  morning, 
doctor,"  Mrs.  Grant  pleaded.  "I've  never  given 
way  to  myself." 

"Probably  not,"  and  the  keen  glance  Dr.  Rogers 
bent  on  the  invalid  provex^  that  he  was  calculating  her 
type  to  a  nicety.  "But  you  must  this  time, — or  I 
must  refuse  to  treat  you." 

Before  her  mother  could  answer,  it  was  Norah 
who  eagerly  gave  assent. 

"I  can  promise  everything  you  say,  Dr.  Rogers," 
she  announced  firmly.  "I'll  be  with  her,  and  will  see 
to  that!" 

Dr.  Norman  Rogers  bowed  formally.  From  all 
outward  appearance  he  was  the  suave,  cool  medical 
man,  but  could  Norah  have  seen  into  his  heart  as  his 
eyes  met  hers  there  acro.ss  the  bed,  her  own  pulse 
might  have  beat  as  fast  as  his  own,  for  the  man  who 
for  so  long  had  remained  unimpressed  by  feminine 
charms,  knew  as  he  gazed,  that  he  was  looking  on  the 
woman  who  was  the  one  woman  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  the  son  of  the  late  Peter   Rogers,   eminent 
surgeon,   Norman   Rogers  might  have  been 
expected  to  forge  rapidly  to  the  front  in  his 
own  medical  career,  but  those  who  knew  him  best 
knew  well  that  it  was  rather  in  spite  of  the  inherited 
garment  than  because  of  it  that  the  younger  man  had, 
in  a  few  short  years  of  practice,  won  for  himself  an 
enviable  place  among  the  city's  practitioners. 

Indeed,  there  had  been  a  time  when  Dr.  Normart 
Rogers  had  wanted  to  leave  San  Francisco  for  some 
other  place  where  he  might  make  his  own  way,  in- 
stead of  being  pointed  out  as  the  son  of  the  famous 
surgeon,  a  course  in  which  he  was  only  dissuaded  by 
his  sister  Frances,  who  pleaded  that  as  the  father  was 
getting  old  and  needed  the  son  that  he  should  remain 
with  him.  Dr.  Norman  smiled  and  gave  in.  He 
knew  how  useless  it  would  be  to  argue  with  Frances, 
for  all  he  knew  she  appreciated  his  idea,  for  Frances 
had  had  it  bred  in  her  that  whatever  father  wished 
was  as  good  as  a  kingly  command.  She  had  been 
taught  this,  he  knew,  by  the  mother  who  had  gone 
through  life  with  his  father  on  a  pedestal,  and  on 
the  mother's  death  had  taken  over  that  ritual  as  well 
as  the  care  of  the  father  and  ten  year-old  brother. 
He  knew,  too,  that  to  keep  faith  with  that  dead 
mother,  his  sister  had  refused  suitor  after  suitor,  pre- 
ferring to  devote  her  life  to  father  and  brother. 

Then  had  come  the  sudden  death  of  Dr.  Peter 
Rogers,  after  the  son  had  been  his  associate  for 

106 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  107 

about  a  year,  and  Dr.  Norman  Rogers  found  him- 
self in  charge  not  only  of  his  own,  but  of  his  father's 
most  lucrative  practice,  a  matter  that  could  not  be 
treated  lightly  by  the  entire  profession. 

With  only  himself  and  his  sister  Frances  left,  Dr. 
Norman  Rogers  had  at  first  suggested  that  they 
move  to  the  city  from  the  great  home  on  the  penin- 
sula, near  Burlingame,  the  wonder  place  his  father 
had  purchased  while  he,  Norman,  was  still  a  student 
at  Stanford  University;  but  Frances,  to  whom  he  had 
always  gone  with  his  own  problems  since  childhood, 
and  whom  he  now  took  no  step  without  consulting, 
promptly  vetoed  the  proposition. 

"No,  Norman,"  she  told  him,  "I  should  hate  to 
give  up  our  home — I  love  my  quiet  life  here,  and  my 
beautiful  garden, — just  think  I've  had  the  manage- 
ment of  it  all  for  twelve  years — I  should  so  hate  to 
be  cooped  up  in  an  apartment,  and  I  don't  believe 
you'd  like  it  either.  You  can  keep  father's  room  at 
the  Palace  and  stay  in  town  as  he  did  whenever  you 
care  to,  and " 

Dr.  Rogers  laughed,  amusedly. 

"That's  a  long  speech  for  you,  Frances,"  he  told 
her.  "But  there's  no  need  to  get  so  excited  about 
it, — I  only  suggested  moving  because  I  thought 
probably  the  place  was  too  large  for  us,  and  too  great 
a  care  for  you.  After  all  there's  a  fascination  about 
the  home  place  I  shouldn't  care  to  lose. 

So  Frances  Rogers  continued  to  manage  the  home 
and  to  look  after  her  brother's  comfort.  It  was  a 
labor  of  love,  and  she  would  have  been  lost  without 
it,  but  as  the  years  passed  she  could  not  fail  to 
wonder  why  her  brother  never  married,  never 
even  showed  any  interest  in  women  except  profes- 


108  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

sionally,  that,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  mucK 
sought  after  as  an  eligible,  and  might  have  made  his 
own  choice. 

Tall  and  handsome  as  he  was,  so  physically  fine, 
with  a  personality  that  won  him  friends  on  first 
sight,  it  was  small  wonder  that  feminine  hearts  beat 
faster  when  in  his  presence,  whether  professionally 
or  socially.  But  Dr.  Rogers  only  smiled  enigmati- 
cally whenever  his  sister  who,  as  ten  years  his  senior, 
had  more  of  a  maternal  feeling  than  a  sisterly  one 
for  him,  sometimes  took  him  to  task  for  his  un- 
interest. 

"You're  sweetheart  enough  for  me,"  he  told  her 
laughingly.  "But  don't  take  it  too  hard, — probably 
an  angel  will  come  along  some  day  and " 

Frances  Rogers  passed  his  cup  of  coffee  to  him 
herself, — they  always  dispensed  with  maid  service  at 
the  intimate  morning  meal,  "An  angel  wouldn't  be 
any  too  good,  at  that,"  was  her  decided  comment, — 
and  conviction. 

And  so,  at  thirty-seven,  though  admiring  and  re- 
specting all  women  who  deserved  it  (and  to  Dr. 
Rogers  most  of  them  did),  there  was  no  indication 
that  he,  essentially  no  ladies' man,  would  ever  be  mar- 
ried. To  him,  his  work  was  all  sufficient,  too  engross- 
ing to  leave  save  for  the  occasional  nights  he  would 
tear  himself  away  from  his  library  to  go  with  his  sister 
on  some  social  call  on  friends  in  Burlingame  or  San 
Mateo,  or  to  a  dinner,  and  although  there  were 
beautiful  and  attractive  girls  in  plenty  who  lionized 
young  Dr.  Rogers  wherever  he  went,  girls  among 
whom  he  might  have  had  his  pick  and  choice,  he  was 
not  attracted. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  109 

Strangely  enough,  for  a  sister  whose  whole  heart 
had  been  wrapped  up  in  the  brother  since  his  boy- 
hood, Frances  Rogers  showed  no  selfishness  what- 
ever about  his  marrying.  In  fact,  like  some  good 
mother  who  hopes  the  best  for  her  own,  she  was 
anxious  for  such  a  consummation;  hoped  that  the 
time  would  still  come  when  Norman  might  meet  a 
girl  he  cared  enough  for  to  make  his  wife.  Her  own 
hopes  of  motherhood  gone,  Frances  Rogers  longed 
with  the  longing  of  the  truly  maternal  for  children  of 
her  brother's  whom  she  might  take  to  her  own  great 
heart.  There  was  only  one  fear  about  his  marrying. 
Would  his  wife  care  for  her?  Might  it  still  be  pos- 
sible for  her  to  remain  ric^ar  Norman?  She  shivered 
at  the  thought  of  being  separated  from  him. 

On  the  night  before  Dr.  Rogers  was  called  in  to 
see  Mrs.  Grant,  he  and  his  sister  had  been  to  a 
dinner  party.  One  young  woman  had  particularly 
taken  the  sister's  eye.  At  their  intimate  breakfast, 
she  had  broken  in  on  his  letter  reading  long  enough 
to  ask: 

"What  did  you  think  of  Mrs.  Granville's  niece 
last  night?" 

"You  mean  that  dark  beauty  from  Honolulu?" 

"Yes, — didn't  you  think  her  singularly  attrac- 
tive?" 

"I  thought  she  was  a  stunning  looking  girl,"  he 
answered,  opening  another  letter. 

"Her  people  are  very  influential  and  quite  wealthy, 
I  understand,"  insinuated  the  sister. 

"Frances!"  He  laid  down  the  letter  and  looked 
sharply  at  her.  "Are  you  trying  to  hold  out  a  bait 
forme?" 


110  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Why,  no — I — I "  She  stammered  and 

blushed. 

"Do  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,"  he  asked,  "or 
what  is  the  reason  for  all  this?" 

"Of  course  I  don't  want  to  get  rid  of  you, — but 
you're  thirty-seven,  you  must  remember,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  you  should  begin  to  think  about 
marrying." 

"Well,  you're  forty-seven,  Frances,  and  I  haven't 
noticed  you  thinking  about — oh,  I  beg  your  pardon ! 
That  was  unkind  of  me !"  He  rose  quickly  and  went 
to  her  side. 

But  Frances  only  laughed.  "That's  all  right, 
Norman,"  she  answered,  "I'm  not  over-sensitive,  you 
know,  and,  besides,  where  could  I  find  any  husband 
who  is  as  good  as  you  are — it's  a  draw-back  to  have 
a  shining  example  of  manly  goodness  right  at  home," 
with  an  admiring  smile,  "but  what  I  mean  to  impress 
is  that  it's  only  right  and  fair  that  a  man  should  have 
a  wife,  and — and  I  should  hate  to  see  the  name  of 
Rogers  die  out." 

Dr.  Rogers  smiled  affectionately  at  his  sister  as 
he  pushed  aside  his  coffee  cup  and  rose.  Dear 
Frances!  When  hadn't  she  been  thinking  of  him — 
of  his  best  interests.  But  in  this  particular  case,  he 
believed  he  knew  best  what  was  good  for  him,  and 
matrimony  so  far  was  not  included  in  all  the  good 
things  of  life. 

He  stopped  back  of  her  chair  to  lay  his  hand 
gently  on  her  slightly  graying  hair. 

"I'd  like  to  please  you,  dear, — in  this  as  much  as 
in  other  things,  but  I  don't  know, — I  don't  know. 
I'll  promise  to  keep  an  eye  out,  anyway — how  will 
that  be?  Maybe — sometime,  I'll  find  her " 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  111 

He  smiled  indulgently  at  her  as  he  reached  the  door, 
and  tossed  her  a  kiss  as  he  disappeared. 

And  that  afternoon  it  came, — the  big  thing  in  his 
life.  Nor  had  he  had  to  keep  an  eye  out.  He  had 
found  what  he  had  not  dreamed  to  exist  only  by 
opening  both  eyes  as  he  saw  Norah  Grant  across  the 
bed  on  which  lay  her  sick  mother.  That  first  curious 
tugging  at  his  heart  strings.  Immured  as  he  was,  he 
had  for  a  single  instant  believed  it  caused  by  pity  for 
the  beautiful  girl  who  was  so  torn  by  anguish  for  her 
mother.  Hers  had  been  such  an  unusual  and  not  to 
be  doubted  example  of  filial  affection.  But  like  a 
blinding  flash  of  lightning  the  real  meaning  had  come 
to  him.  In  that  flash  he  knew  that  it  was  love  he 
felt, — that  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  in 
love,  and  that  here  was  the  woman  who  must  share 
his  life,  or  no  other  would. 

True  to  his  word,  Dr.  Rogers  had  Mrs.  Grant  up 
in  a  few  days.  Norah  had  been  constant  in  her 
attention  during  those  days,  but  at  the  end  of  the 
week,  it  was  necessary  for  her  to  return  to  the  office, 
as  there  was  some  work  that  only  she  could  attend 
to,  and  Mr.  Thorne  had  been  most  apologetic  over 
the  'phone  when  he  had  asked  her  if  she  could 
manage  it. 

Susan,  learning  this,  offered  to  come  over  every 
day  if  she  could  get  a  substitute  to  take  her  place  at 
the  Tuesday  bridge  club,  if  she  could  cancel  two 
dinner  engagements  and  a  luncheon,  and  a  half  dozen 
other  things,  but  Norah,  impatient  at  such  a  display 
answered,  just  a  bit  coldly  and  impatiently: 

"Not  necessary,  Susy;  we'll  manage.  Mama's 
feeling  as  well  as  ever,  outside  of  being  a  little  weak. 
That  is  to  be  expected." 


1H  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Doesn't  she  know  that  she  had  a  stroke?"  asked 
the  other  sister,  unconsciously  lowering  her  voice  at 
the  other  end  of  the  telephone. 

"No;  and  we're  not  going  to  tell  her.  Dr.  Rogers 
says  there's  no  necessity." 

"Do  you  think  she'll  have  another?  Be  careful, 
now,  what  you  say,"  advised  Susan,  "or  she'll  hear 
you " 

"No,  she's  lying  down,"  Norah  sent  the  answer. 
"The  doctor  says  she  may  never  have  another,  but 
he  intends  watching  her,  just  the  same." 

"I  should  think  you'd  call  Dr.  Stratton  who  has 
always  attended  mama,  Norah,"  Susan  offered 
querulously,  but  her  sister  interrupted  with  decision: 
"Dr.  Stratton  is  very  old,  my  dear  child,  and,  besides, 
both  mama  and  I  have  the  utmost  confidence  in  Dr. 
Rogers,  after  what  he  has  done  for  mama.  That  is 
a  great  thing,  you  must  remember." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so."  Susan,  with  the  sense  of  hav- 
ing performed  her  duty,  had  other  things  to  attend 
to.  "Well,  if  you  want  me,"  she  concluded,  "just 
let  me  know.  Give  my  love  to  mama.  Good-by, — 
we'll  be  over  Sunday — Good-by." 

Dr.  Rogers  dropped  in  unexpectedly  after  dinner 
that  evening.  To  many,  it  might  have  seemed  a  bit 
outside  of  the  professional  when  he  handed  Mrs. 
Grant  a  box  of  fragrant  violets.  To  Norah  Grant, 
who  so  loved  her  mother,  it  seemed  no  more  than  a 
fitting  tribute  from  anyone  who  had  been  lucky 
enough  to  serve  her. 

"I  was  down  this  way  with  my  sister,"  he  ex- 
plained, as  he  watched  Norah,  after  the  first  excla- 
mation of  pleasure  over  his  gift,  arranging  the 
flowers  in  a  bowl,  "and  I  thought  I  would  drop  in 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  113 

and  see  how  you  were  feeling  after  your  first  day 
sitting  up,  Mrs.  Grant." 

"Quite  all  right,"  assured  Norah's  mother, — 
"thanks  to  you  and  my  daughter.  I  feel  sure  it  will 
be  all  right  for  Norah  to  go  back  to  the  office  to- 
morrow, don't  you,  doctor?"  and  without  waiting  for 
a  reply  save  for  the  grave  nod  of  his  head,  she  went 
on  complacently:  "Besides,  if  there  is  any  need  for 
anyone  to  be  with  me,  there's  my  married  daughter, 
— Susan  would  come  over,  wouldn't  she,  Norah?" 

Norah's  face  was  turned  away  from  her  mother  as 
she  answered, — answered  that  the  mother  might 
know  nothing  of  the  self-interest  of  the  daughter  she 
trusted:  "I'm  sure  she  would,  mama." 

"Then  there  isn't  any  reason  you  shouldn't  make 
it  all  right,"  Dr.  Rogers  told  them.  "I'll  run  in 
twice  a  day  for  a  time, — er — you  leave  early  for 
work,  Miss  Grant,  I  take  it?"  turning  to  Norah  who 
nodded  and  murmured :  "About  eight-thirty."  "So," 
he  continued,  "I'll  make  my  second  visit  about  five- 
thirty  or  six." 

It  was  not  Norah,  though,  but  Mrs.  Grant,  the 
mother,  with  the  all-seeing  eyes,  with  the  heart  that 
hoped  for  the  happiness  of  her  own  who  saw  any- 
thing in  the  timing  of  Dr.  Rogers'  visits.  Then, 
though,  it  was  only  to  hope,  as  she  watched  the 
beauty  of  her  daughter,  her  glance  then  straying  to 
the  handsome  young  man  whose  eyes  told  her  a  half- 
guessed  secret,  quite  hidden  from  the  girl  herself. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THAT  night  was  the  beginning  of  a  friendship 
that  rarely  exists  between  practitioner  and 
patient.  Mrs.  Grant  came  to  watch  for  the 
doctor's  visits  as  she  had  never  known  herself  to 
watch  for  anything  before,  outside  of  the  homecom- 
ing of  Norah.  He  seemed  so  to  radiate  cheerful- 
ness and  sunshine.  A  half  hour's  talk  with  him  was 
better  for  her  than  any  nostrums.  But  a  mother's 
eyes  are  never  deceived. 

She  saw,  too,  how  he  came  to  watch  for  the  ring 
at  the  doorbell  that  heralded  Norah's  return,  at  such 
times  as  he  came  in  before  she  did.  Long  before  he 
thought  anyone  guessed  his  secret,  Evelyn  Grant 
could  have  told  what  lay  in  his  heart.  The  nights 
when  he  stayed  for  an  informal  dinner,  telephoning 
his  sister  not  to  wait  for  him,  she  came  to  look  for- 
ward to.  Norman  Rogers  was  not  the  only  one  in 
the  Grant  home  those  evenings  who  held  a  hope. 

It  is  not  the  great  things  in  life  that  require 
time  In  the  telling.  They  grow  so;  happen  so  sud- 
denly, in  spite  of  the  thousand  small  things  that  lead 
up  to  them.  So  with  the  courtship  of  Dr.  Norman 
Grant.  In  looking  back  he  could  not  have  itemized 
the  facts  that  led  to  the  big  things,  as  he  might  have 
recounted,  day  by  day,  the  doings  of  his  college 
days,  of  his  work  in  laboratory  or  hospital.  He  only 
knew  that  day  had  followed  day,  that  sometimes  he 
had  taken  the  woman  he  loved  for  an  automobile 

114 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  115 

ride  or  to  the  theater,  but  that  at  last  the  time  had 
come  when  he  must  speak. 

Norah  Grant,  herself,  laughed  at  her  mother  when 
she  intimated  such  a  thing.  Mrs.  Grant  had  first 
broached  the  subject  after  the  doctor  had  taken  them 
to  a  musical  comedy  at  the  Columbia. 

"Did  you  enjoy  it,  dear?"  she  asked,  as  she  started 
to  hang  her  dress  in  the  closet,  the  dainty  black 
chiffon  of  which  she  was  so  proud  and  which  Norah 
had  insisted  she  should  for  once  buy  instead  of  mak- 
ing it  for  herself. 

"Indeed  I  did,"  was  the  enthusiastic  response,  as 
Norah  paused  in  the  nightly  brushing  of  her  hair. 
"Wasn't  the  music  lovely?"  Another  pause  while 
the  brush  moved  rhythmically  over  the  glossy  black 
curls.  Then  there  was  a  hint  of  plaintiveness  in  her 
voice  as  she  went  on:  "Do  you  know,  mama,  I  think 
I'll  buy  a  piano  this  winter  and  start  to  practice 
again — I  think  you  know  how  I  love  it,  and  would 
you  believe  it,  after  all  this  time?  I  never  go  to  a 
musical  show  or  to  a  concert  but  I  long  for  the  feel 
of  the  keys  under  my  fingers?" 

There  was  a  queer  little  contraction  of  Evelyn 
Grant's  heart.  Just  for  the  moment  she  was  remem- 
bering those  days,  now  so  long  ago,  when  she  had 
had  to  make  her  choice,  and  it  had  been  necessary 
for  her  to  deny  to  this  daughter  the  music  she  knew 
she  loved  so  well.  She  did  not  look  up  from  chang- 
ing her  shoes  to  her  mules  as  she  answered. 

"I  think  you  should  do  it,  dear, — but  why  don't 
you  wait  now  until  you  have  a  home  of  your  own  and 
plenty  of  time  to  devote  to  your  music  or  anything 
else  you  choose?" 

Norah  turned  to  gaze  at  her  with  surprised  eyes. 


116  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"A  home  of  my  own?"  was  the  astonished  reply. 
"Why,  haven't  I  one?" 

Evelyn  Grant  reached  her  daughter's  side  before 
she  answered.  Her  arm  slipped  tenderly  about  the 
girl's  shoulders  and  she  turned  to  her  to  look  into  her 
"eyes. 

"Norah,  dear,"  she  asked,  "can't  you  see,  'don't 
you  know  that  Dr.  Rogers  is  in  love  with  you?" 

For  a  moment  Norah  drew  back,  her  eyes 
startled. 

"Why,  no,  mama !"  as  she  shook  her  head  till  the 
curls  flew  about  her  shoulders.  "You  are  mistaken, 
I'm  sure  of  it!  He  likes  us  both  very  much,  but  as 
for  being  in  love " 

"I've  a  mother's  eyes,  dear, — I've  been  watch- 
ing— I  know, — I  can't  understand  why  you  haven't!" 

Norah's  breath  came  quickly.  "But  you  are  mis- 
taken, mama,  dear, — I'm  sure  of  it — but,"  and  the 
eyes  widened,  "wouldn't  it  be  dreadful  if  he  was!" 

"'Dreadful'?"  Her  mother  looked  at  her  in 
amazement.  "The  most  wonderful  thing  in  the 
world?  Dr.  Norman  Rogers, — handsome,  wealthy, 
brilliant — what  more  could  any  woman  want?" 

"But,  mama, — you  don't  understand — I've  never 
thought  of  marrying  anyone, — it  hasn't  been  among 
the  things  I've  considered." 

"Don't  be  ridiculous,  Norah!"  For  one  of  the  few 
times  in  her  life,  Mrs.  Grant  was  impatient  with  this 
brilliant  daughter  of  hers.  She  spoke  with  asperity. 
"Just  remember,  please,  that  you're  twenty-five  years 
old,  and  that  it's  time  you  thought  of  settling  down." 

Norah's  smile  was  as  indulgent  as  one  might  have 
given  a  child  as  she  turned  once  more  to  her  hair- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  117 

brushing  task.  "Settling  down?"  she  repeated.  I 
"didn't  know  I'd  ever  been  particularly  wild." 

Mrs.  Grant  even  felt  petulant  as  she  climbed  into 
bed  and  drew  the  covers  up  about  her  chin.  "Oh, 
you  know  I  didn't  mean  it  that  way,"  she  said 
wearily, — "of  course  you've  never  been  wild — 
Norah,  don't  forget  the  hot-water  bag,"  she  stopped 
to  remind, — "but  you  know  well  enough  you  can't  go 
on  this  way  the  rest  of  your  life!  I  won't  be  with 
you  always,  and  think  of  the  emptiness  of  the  years 
ahead!" 

Norah  finished  the  long  plait  of  hair,  flung  it 
back  over  her  shoulders,  and  slipped  her  arms  into 
her  nightdress  before  she  answered. 

"This  is  all  such  futile  talk,  mama,  isn't  it?"  she 
asked.  "You're  just  as  well  as  you  ever  were, — 
you're  going  to  live  for  years  and  years  and  we're 
going  to  do  all  the  things  we've  planned — and  even 
if  it  were  otherwise,  which  I  refuse  to  think  of,  re- 
member I  have  my  business  career,  my  independence ! 
That's  enough  for  any  woman  to  think  about!" 

"No  it  isn't!"  In  her  earnestness,  Mrs.  Grant 
sat  up  in  bed  as  she  emphasized  her  remarks  with  a 
finger  pointed  at  her  daughter.  "You  may  think 
so  now,  but  there's  a  time  coming  when  you'll  realize 
that  in  a  woman's  life  there's  nothing  to  take  the 
place  of  a  husband  and  babies.  You've  made  a  suc- 
cess of  business,  Norah,  I'm  granting  you  that — I 
am  as  proud  of  it  as  you — you're  earning  a  salary 
that  most  men  would  envy,  but  you  still  have  to  learn 
that  it  will  take  something  more  than  a  successful 
business  career  to  make  you  happy." 

Norah  was  cool  and  nonchalant  as  she  turned  on 


118  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

the  night  light.  "I'm  perfectly  happy  and  contented 
now,  mama,"  was  what  she  said. 

"You  mean  you  think  you  are!"  Mrs.  Grant  laid 
down  wearily.  This  unconvincible  daughter  of  hers 
was  beyond  her.  There  seemed  nothing  she  could 
say  that  could  prove  what  she  knew  in  her  inmost 
soul.  She  lay  passive  while  her  daughter  placed  the 
hot-water  bag  at  her  feet. 

"There,  now,  mama,  dear,"  said  Norah,  "all 
comfy?  Sleep  good — let's  forget  all  these  mistaken 
notions." 

But  that  Mrs.  Grant  was  not  mistaken  was  proven 
but  a  day  or  so  later  when  Dr.  Rogers,  on  a  hurried 
morning  visit,  took  that  occasion  formally  to  ask  her 
consent  to  his  suit  for  her  daughter's  hand.  Happy 
as  she  was  at  the  prospect,  though,  she  could  not 
forget  her  daughter's  ideas. 

"I'm  afraid,  though,"  she  told  him  at  parting, 
"that  you'll  find  Norah  a  peculiar  girl.  She  seems 
to  have  made  up  her  mind  never  to  marry." 

Dr.  Rogers  smiled  complacently.  "Perhaps  love 
may  induce  her  to  change  her  mind,"  was  what 
he  said,  as  he  held  Mrs.  Grant's  hand  in  his  own, 
the  warm  touch  of  his  handclasp  infusing  new 
warmth  into  her  own  wearied  blood. 

"I  hope  and  pray  she  does,"  said  the  mother,  fer- 
vently. 

On  Sunday  Dr.  Rogers  had  planned  to  take  Norah 
and  her  mother  for  a  drive  down  the  peninsula  to 
meet  his  sister,  whom  circumstances  so  far  had  pre- 
cluded their  meeting.  Norah  was  looking  forward 
to  the  trip  with  pleasure,  all  thought  of  the  talk  she 
had  had  with  her  mother  a  night  or  so  before  totally 
;erased  from  her  mind.  She  was  not  pleased,  there- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  119 

fore,  when  her  mother  told  her,  when  she  arrived 
home  early  on  Saturday  that  Susan  had  telephoned 
she  would  bring  her  family  over  the  next  day. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  her  we  were  invited  out  with 
Dr.  Rogers,  and  ask  her  to  come  another  time?" 
Norah  asked,  when  her  mother  told  her.  "I'm  sure 
you  didn't  have  to  stand  on  ceremony  with  Susy." 

"I  know,"  was  the  answer,  "but  when  she  said  she 
was  bringing  the  boys,  I  sort  of  felt  as  if  I  wanted 
to  see  them.  You  go  for  the  ride  with  Dr.  Rogers 
and  then  bring  him  back  for  dinner.  It  will  be  nice 
to  have  him  meet  the  family." 

"You  can't  possibly  get  dinner  all  alone  for  so 
many/mama.  I'll  stay  and  help  you,"  she  insisted. 
"I'm  sure  Dr.  Rogers  will  excuse  us." 

"You'll  please  me  so  much  by  going,  dear. 
You're  in  the  office  all  week,  and  you  need  a  little 
recreation  on  Sunday.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do — if 
you'll  go,  I'll  ask  Mrs.  Chase,  next  door,  to  come 
in  and  help  me.  She'd  love  to, — she's  all  alone,  too." 

Evelyn  Grant  was  remembering  some  of  her  own 
courtship  days  as  she  turned  aside  her  head  to  hide 
the  smile  of  contentment  on  hearing  Norah's  half 
murmured  agreement.  What  might  not  happen  on 
this  one  trip  when  the  two  were  alone — when  they 
were  not  hampered  by  the  presence  of  even  the  in- 
nocuous third  party  that  she  had  always  been. 

One  of  California's  perfect  days!  An  azure  sky; 
sunshine  that  warmed  pleasantly,  with  just  a  touch 
of  wine  that  made  the  blood  rush  more  rapidly 
through  the  pulse;  an  exhilaration  of  ozone  and  mo- 
tion ;  two  alone  in  a  sedan,  speeding  out  through  the 
park  along  the  ocean;  down  Sloat  Boulevard;  turn- 
ing into  the  road  that  runs  to  San  Mateo! 


120  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Dr.  Rogers  felt  as  he  had  not  since  the  days  in 
Stanford  when  the  world  was  be-fore  him,  as  he  felt 
the  warmth  of  Norah  Grant's  body  beside  him, 
smelled  the  perfume  that  aerated  about  her.  In  his 
happiness  he  was  conscious  of  such  small  things, 
just  as  he  had  been  conscious  of  the  brooch  Mrs. 
Grant  had  been  wearing  when  she  had  bidden  them 
good-by  with  the  smile  that  he  knew  was  one  of 
encouragement, — a  brooch  she  had  probably  worn  a 
hundred  times,  but  he  had  never  noticed;  he  remem- 
bered the  blue  cording  in  her  dark  gown.  Such 
unusual  things  for  a  man  to  note  at  any  time. 

Now,  as  the  sedan  whirled  along  the  wide  road, 
he  saw  things  as  through  the  greatest  lens  of  a 
microscope.  A  blue  sky,  dropping  down  to  the 
horizon,  more  sapphire  than  he  had  ever  imagined 
it;  a  bent  twig  on  a  tree  in  a  passing  lot, — trees 
should  all  be  perfect, — God  meant  them  so, — why 
then  a  bent  one  on  this  perfect  day;  the  unlaced  shoe 
of  the  boy  who  loped  beside  his  slow  moving  car. 
And  always,  always,  the  glory  of  gold  of  the  poppies 
in  the  fields  they  passed.  As  they  drove  by  Ingle- 
side  Terrace,  Norah,  too,  could  not  fail  to  note  them. 
The  group  after  group  of  people  who  picked  them; 
those  passing  who  bore  great  bunches  of  the  golden 
flowers. 

"How  beautiful!"  Norah  exclaimed.  "Wasn't  it 
too  bad  mama  couldn't  come — she  loves  them  so." 

"We'll  stop  on  the  way  back  and  get  her  a  lot 
of  them — they  are  beautiful,  aren't  they?"  He 
slowed  the  car  as  he  spoke  till  it  came  to  a  stop 
beside  a  field  of  a  cloth  of  gold.  "They're  all  gold, 
as  you  are  Norah,"  he  said,  dreamily,  but  before 
she  could  voice  her  surprise  at  the  unexpected,  he 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  121 

hurried  on:  "You're  all  that  to  me,  and  more,  Norah 
— haven't  you  guessed  it?  Didn't  you  know  why  I 
was  glad  to  have  you  alone  with  me  to-day?" 

He  was  stammering  like  a  schoolboy  as  he  could 
not  help  but  see  the  amazed,  questioning  light  in  the 
girl's  deep  eyes.  He  reached  out  to  touch  her  hand 
gently,  to  press  it  with  a  reverential  touch. 

"It  may  not  be  the  place,  or  the  time,"  he  said 
slowly,  "but  I  cannot  go  on  with  the  words  unsaid, 
Norah."  He  took  the  listless  hand  into  his  own 
warm,  impassioned  one.  "Don't  you  know  I  love 
you?  Haven't  you  guessed  that  some  day,  some 
time, — at  my  first  opportunity,  I  would  ask  you,  as 
I  am  asking  you  now,  to  fye  my  wife?" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  coatless  old  man  who  plodded  unnoticed 
along  the  road,  with  the  wilting  bunch  of 
yellow  poppies  in  his  work-hardened  hand 
smiled  as  his  eyes  held  a  moment  in  passing  on  the 
motionless  sedan  and  the  two  inside,  unconscious  of 
all  about  them,  their  eyes  ostensibly  on  the  poppy 
fields,  their  thoughts,  as  he  knew,  on  each  other. 
What  thoughts  brought  back  a  youthful  smile  to 
those  faded  old  eyes  as  he  went  on  his  way? 

Norah  was  the  first  to  break  the  second-long 
silence. 

"I — I'm  sorry,"  she  murmured,  her  hand  which 
she  had  withdrawn  from  the  unprotesting  clasp  of 
Dr.  Rogers,  nervously  clasping  and  unclasping  her 
hand  bag.  But  not  for  long  was  he  unprotesting. 
Once  more  he  took  hold  of  the  hand  and  held  it  in 
a  firm  clasp. 

"Norah,"  he  said,  the  deep  note  in  his  low-toned 
voice  proving  his  earnestness,  "it  is  hard  for  me  to 
find  words  to  tell  you  of  my  great  love  for  you. 
I've  dreamed  of  you  so  much, — have  thought  till 
my  brain  ached,  how  to  tell  you,  and  now  when  I 
try — oh — I  can't!  Won't  you  just  believe  me  when 
I  tell  you  I'd  do  anything  in  the  world  to  win  you 
— to  make  you  care  just  a  little!  Can't  you?" 

Norah's  eyes  were  clear  and  candid  as  she  looked 
him  full  in  the  face.  "I  do  care  for  you — very 

122 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  123 

much,"  she  told  him.  "I  don't  think  there  has  ever 
been  a  friendship  in  my  life  that  has  given  me  such 

pleasure,  but — but "  She  hesitated  as  though 

searching  for  words  in  which  to  make  her  meaning 
clear,  with  a  clearness  that  would  not  wound,  "I — 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  never  to  marry." 

Dr.  Rogers  was  taken  back  by  the  very  candid- 
ness  of  her.  Inexperienced  as  he  was,  he  could  not 
quite  understand  this  attitude  which  was  so  different 
from  that  of  any  woman  of  whom  he  had  ever  read, 
or  heard. 

"But  why?"  he  asked.  "Why  have  you  deter- 
mined upon  such  an  unusual  thing?"  curiously.  "Are 
you  a  man-hater?" 

"Indeed  not!  On  the  contrary,  Fm  an  ardent 
admirer  of  clever,  brilliant  men.  It's  just  because 
I  glory  in  the  thought  of  independence." 

"You  mean  because  you're  able  to  take  such  ex- 
cellent care  of  your  mother?  I  promise  you,  Norah, 
that  it  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  provide 
for  her." 

Norah's  head  shook  slowly.  A  film  came  into  the 
blue  eyes.  "Please  don't  think  me  ungrateful,  Dr. 
Rogers,"  she  begged.  "I'm  afraid  it  will  be  difficult 
for  me  to  make  you  understand  this,  but  I've  worked 
since  I  was  twelve  years  old  and  the  greatest  joy 
I  ever  knew  was  when  my  mother  was  able  to  depend 
on  me  for  support.  I've  worked  my  way  up,  step 
by  step,  until  now  I  am  in  a  position  to  give  her 
comforts.  I  feel  certain  that  before  long  I  can  give 
her  luxuries.  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  either  of 
us  depending  upon  anyone." 

"But,  my  dear  girl!"  The  man  was  argumenta- 
tive, though  the  furrow  that  came  between  his  eyes 


124  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

showed  him  not  understanding.  "Every  woman 
depends  upon  her  husband  for  support.  It's  the 
natural  thing!  The  real  cause  for  complaint  is  that 
many  husbands  are  unable  to  support  them."  He 
laughed  half-heartedly  at  his  own  attempt  at  humor. 

"Oh,  I  know,"  she  answered.  "Many  women 
look  upon  life  differently  than  I.  They  may  be 
right, — mama  says  I'm  wrong  to  feel  as  I  do, — but 
I  can't  help  it.  All  my  life  I've  had  a  great  ambition 
to  succeed  in  the  business  world,  and  I  won't  allow 
anything  to  influence  me  against  it." 

"Dear!"  There  was  a  wistful  expression  in  his 
eyes  as  he  spoke, — "There  is  nothing  in  the  world 
to  take  the  place  of  love!  If  you  would  only  give 
me  a  chance  to  win  you,  I'm  sure  I  could  convince 
you." 

"I  realize  that  love  is  a  wonderful  thing,"  was 
her  grave  reply.  "I've  loved  all  my  life, — my 
mother, — my  sister, — my  brother " 

"But  I'm  so  sure,  Norah,  that  you  are  the  sort 
of  woman  who  would  be  capable  of  a  great 
love "  he  began,  pleading,  but  she  burst  out  be- 
fore he  could  argue  further. 

"Oh,  I  do  wish  I  could  care  for  you  in  that  way, 
Dr.  Rogers!  I  know  it  would  make  my  mother  so 
happy, — she  is  so  fond  of  you,  but — but — I  just 
can't!" 

"Do  you  care  for  anyone  else?"  he  asked,  as 
eagerly  as  though  he  were  the  first  lover  to  voice 
the  question. 

"In  the  light  you  mean, — no !"  She  smiled  as  her 
head  shook  and  her  gaze  wandered  out  to  the  poppy 
fields  and  beyond.  "You  see,  I've  never  considered 
marriage  at  all." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  125 

"Well,  then,  I'm  going  to  be  patient."  He  was 
as  cheerful  as  ever.  "We  can  still  be  the  same 
friends,  can't  we?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  shall  always  want  you  to  be  my 
friend,  Dr.  Rogers,"  she  smiled  back  at  him. 
"Knowing  you  has  made  me  very  happy." 

His  foot  pressed  the  starter  and  the  car  shot 
ahead  down  the  beautiful  highway,  the  conversa- 
tion drifting  into  popular  topics  of  the  day,  until 
they  reached  his  beautiful  old-fashioned  home. 

Turning  in  at  the  driveway,  they  went  the  distance 
of  an  ordinary  town  block  between  an  avenue  of  tall, 
shady  trees,  forming  anarch,  at  the  end  of  which 
they  emerged  and  faceoTxthe  house.  In  the  midst 
of  a  charming  and  quaint  garden  it  stood,  a  two- 
storied  shingled  house,  with  its  large,  roomy  veran- 
dah, its  French  doors  and  many-eyed  windows.  The 
slanting  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun  were  beaming 
directly  on  the  front  door  to  send  forth  a  golden 
welcome. 

"What  a  charming  place!"  Norah  exclaimed,  as 
she  stepped  out  of  the  machine.  "Just  far  enough 
from  the  highway,  too,  to  make  it  ideal." 

"My  sister  takes  great  pride  in  these  grounds," 
he  replied.  "It's  hard  to  tell  whether  she  or  our 
gardener,  Tom,  does  the  most  work.  She  spends 
hours  out  here  every  day,  and  what  she  doesn't  know 
about  shrubbery  and  flowers  isn't  worth  knowing." 

Frances  Rogers,  attractive  in  her  simple  gown  of 
Alice  blue  crepe,  her  soft  hair  parted  in  the  middle 
and  drawn  into  a  knot  at  her  neck,  came  down  the 
steps  to  greet  them. 

Her  cheerful,  hospitable  welcome  and  the  few 
well-chosen  words  did  much  to  put  at  ease  the  girl  who 


126  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

was  once  more  wishing  for  the  presence  of  her 
mother. 

Frances  served  tea  in  the  upstairs  sitting  room, 
a  lovely  sunny  apartment  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
overlooking  the  small  orchard  and  vegetable  garden 
that  were  her  special  pride.  As  she  lounged  back 
in  the  comfortable  chair  Norman  had  drawn  up  for 
her,  Norah  looked  about  her  admiringly.  There 
was  something  about  the  gray  wicker  furniture  and 
rose  cretonne  hangings  that  lent  an  irresistible  charm 
to  the  room.  The  brightly  burning  logs  in  the  old- 
fashioned  fireplace  threw  out  a  warmth  and  a  cozi- 
ness  that  was  as  manifest  as  the  little  dancing  lights 
on  the  hearth. 

"Cream  or  lemon,  Miss  Grant?"  Frances  asked, 
as  she  poured  the  tea.  "And  how  many  sugars?" 

"Plain,  if  you  please." 

"I  see  you  want  to  taste  the  tea.  Wait  until  you 
see  Norman " 

"I  know,"  laughed  Norah,  "plenty  of  cream  and 
three  lumps  of  sugar!" 

"I've  trespassed  on  Mrs.  Grant's  hospitality  so 
often,"  confessed  Norman,  "that  it's  no  wonder 
Miss  Grant  knows  my  weakness." 

"Why,  Dr.  Rogers!  Nothing  gives  mama  more 
pleasure  than  to  have  you  drop  in  informally  for 
dinner.  She  never  has  a  chance  to  prepare  anything 
extra  for  you — you're  just  like  one  of  the  family." 
Norah  felt  painfully  the  blush  that  suffused  her 
face  as  she  spoke,  and  she  would  have  given 
much  to  have  retracted  the  latter  part  of  her  speech, 
too  late. 

"That's  exactly  the  way  I  want  to  be  treated, — 
like  one  of  the  family,"  he  said,  eagerly. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  127 

Frances'  quick  glance  at  her  brother  told  her 
woman-sister-mother's  heart  the  truth.  What  she 
saw  mirrored  in  his  eyes  acknowledged  the  truth  of 
her  suspicions  and  all  but  stopped  that  heart's  beating 
for  the  moment  she  knew.  What  she  had  hoped 
for,  yet  had  dreaded  for  years,  had  happened. 
Norman  in  love — at  last!  And  with  this  girl, 
Norah  Grant,  beautiful,  refined  and  no  doubt  clever, 
but  (she  was  ashamed  of  herself  even  while  she  had 
the  thought) — a  mere  nobody! 

He  who  could  have  had  his  choice  among  San 
Francisco's  elite,  or  the  peninsula's  fashionable 
coterie!  Instead,  Fate  had  placed  this  girl  in  his 
path.  Never,  for  an  instant  did  it  occur  to  her  that 
Norah  might  refuse  him.  What  girl  in  her  right 
senses  would  decline  such  an  honor.  The  wife  of 
Dr.  Norman  Rogers, — the  very  thought  of  it  caused 
Frances  unconsciously  to  lift  her  head  a  little  higher. 
She  began  to  wonder  about  what  sort  of  an  im- 
pression she  was  making.  Above  all  else  she  wanted 
Norah  to  like  her,  for  she  had  made  lip  her  mind 
years  before  to  open  up  her  heart  and  arms  to  the 
girl  who  would  become  her  brother's  wife. 

"When  we've  finished  tea,  I'd  like  to  take  you 
through  the  house  and  grounds,  Miss  Grant,"  she 
offered,  as  she  passed  the  tea  biscuits  and  home- 
made marmalade.  "None  of  the  other  rooms  are  as 
modern  as  this.  You  see  we  brought  most  of  our 
furniture  down  from  our  home  in  San  Francisco 
and  father  wouldn't  allow  us  to  dispose  of  it  be- 
cause of  the  sentiment  attached  to  it." 

"We  had  a  very  nice  home  in  San  Francisco  on 
Steiner,  near  Geary,  but  had  lived  there  only  a  year 
when  mother  died,"  Norman  explained.  "She  and 


128  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

father  had  selected  all  the  furniture  together  and 
although  a  great  deal  of  it  was  unsuitable  for  our 
house  down  here,  it  was  father's  wish  to  use  it  just 
the  same,  and  since  he  is  gone,  Frances  is  more 
attached  to  the  things  than  ever.  This  room  was 
originally  father's  private  study,  and  when  we  de- 
cided to  turn  it  into  a  sitting  room,  we  were  obliged 
to  refurnish  it." 

"It  is  lovely,"  declared  Norah,  "but  I  know  I 
shall  adore  the  rest  of  the  house,  as  I've  always 
been  interested  in  things  that  have  been  lived  with 
and  loved.  Don't  you  think  an  old-fashioned  home 
always  spells  'welcome'  in  capital  letters?" 

Frances  led  the  way  as  they  went  from  room  to 
room,  pausing  now  and  then  to  explain  in  detail 
about  a  certain  picture,  an  ornament  or  piece  of 
furniture.  The  large  living  room  with  its  high- 
backed  velour  upholstered  pieces  of  mahogany;  its 
gilded  cabinet  containing  ornaments  of  carved  ivory, 
satsuma  and  painted  porcelain;  its  damask-covered 
walls,  on  which  hung  oil  paintings,  etchings  and 
engravings.  One  went  back  at  least  twenty-five  years 
as  he  looked  about,  and  the  baby  grand  Steinway 
piano  could  not  help  but  attract  attention  amidst 
such  surroundings. 

"I  see  you're  looking  at  my  piano,"  Frances 
smiled  as  she  followed  Norah's  gaze.  "It's  a  recent 
birthday  present  from  my  generous  brother." 

"Oh,  do  you  play,  Miss  Rogers?"  Norah  inquired 
eagerly.  "I  love  music!  Please  let  me  hear  you!" 

"I'm  sorry  I  don't  play  at  all.  Years  ago  I  was 
studying  the  violin,  but  when  we  lost  mother  I  just 
gave  up  my  lessons;  consequently  my  practice.'* 

"You  mean  you  gave  up  your  lessons  because  it 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  129 

took  all  your  time  to  look  after  me,"  Norman  in- 
terposed. "Frances  has  been  a  mother  as  well  as 
a  sister  to  me,  Miss  Grant." 

"Norman  always  makes  so  much  of  things," 
Frances  announced  simply,  but  there  was  the  flush  of 
pleasure  that  deepened  on  her  face  that  was  always 
there  at  any  word  of  praise  from  her  brother  that 
did  not  escape  the  guest.  She  returned  to  the  former 
subject.  "Many  of  my  friends  play  if  I  don't, 
and  though  Norman's  voice  is  untrained  it  is  excep- 
tionally good,  so  we  have  much  pleasure  from  our 
piano." 

"How  unkind  of  you  not  to  have  told  me  you 
sing,  Dr.  Rogers!"  Nb^rah  pretended  to  be  quite 
peeved.  "When  you  know  how  I  enthuse  over  an 
opera,  and  the  rapture  I  go  into  at  a  concert." 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  he  begged,  as  he  bowed 
low,  "do  forgive  me!  My  voice  is  a  great  secret. 
As  I  was  the  only  rival  of  Caruso  I  must  be  care- 
ful not  to  boast  of  my  powers." 

"Now,  Norman," — Frances  was  indignant, — "I 
don't  see  why  you  should  want  to  ridicule  yourself 
like  that.  You  have  a  splendid  voice  and  you  know 
it." 

"Don't  pay  any  attention  to  her,  Miss  Grant." 
He  was  actually  embarrassed.  "She's  overesti- 
mating me,  as  usual.  Just  because  I  sang  tenor  in 
a  quartette  at  college  she  believes  I  have  a 
knowledge  of  music." 

"Of  one  thing  I  am  certain,"  and  Norah  laughed, 
"and  that  is  that  to  your  sister  you  are  the  per- 
sonification of  perfection  in  everything." 

"Too  bad  someone  else  can't  see  me  in  the  same 
light,"  he  whispered,  as  they  crossed  the  hall  to 


130  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

the  library.  As  they  went  from  room  to  room  the 
simplicity  and  refinement  of  the  old  house  appealed 
more  and  more  strongly  to  Norah.  But  pleased  as 
she  was  with  the  interior,  it  paled  into  insignificance 
beside  the  joy  she  felt  at  the  beauty  of  the 
gardens.  American  Beauty  roses,  prize  dahlias,  and 
orchids  were  not  there,  but  a  quaint,  eye-easing, 
soul-satisfying  collection  of  old-fashioned  posies 
dazzled  and  sent  forth  the  fragrance  that  has 
soothed  generations.  Daisies,  marigolds,  morning 
glories,  sweet  peas,  honeysuckle  vines,  lilac  bushes, 
pansy  beds,  mignonette,  geraniums,  wild  roses. 

Frances,  her  shears  emphasizing  her  intentions  as 
she  cut,  told  them:  "I'm  going  to  send  these  back 
for  your  mother,  Miss  Grant.  As  long  as  she 
couldn't  come  to  my  garden,  I'll  follow  in  the  foot- 
steps of  Mohammed  and  send  the  garden  to  her." 

"How  kind  you  are!"  Norah  exclaimed,  grate- 
fully. "Mama  loves  flowers!  She  takes  such  good 
dare  of  them  they  last  for  days." 

On  the  way  back  to  the  house,  Norman  looked 
at  his  watch. 

"We  won't  have  to  start  back  for  another  hour," 
he  suggested.  "Shall  we  sit  out  on  the  verandah 
or  go  inside?" 

"Out  here,  by  all  means,"  Norah  answered,  as  she 
reached  the  top  step  of  the  verandah.  "It  seems 
like  paradise  on  a  day  like  this." 

They  were  barely  seated  when  a  limousine  came 
up  the  driveway  and  the  chauffeur  assisted  three 
women  to  alight. 

"We  were  just  driving  by,  so  stopped  on  the 
chance  of  finding  you  at  home."  Mrs.  Granville, 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  131 

a  gray-haired,  aristocratic  matron,  talking  as  she 
came,  preceded  her  daughter  and  niece  up  the  steps. 

"How-do-you-do,  Mrs.  Granville,"  said  Frances 
graciously.  "I  am  so  glad  you  did." 

Norman  came  forward  to  greet  them,  and 
Frances  turned  to  Norah. 

"Let  me  present  Miss  Grant,  Mrs.  Granville — 
Miss  Granville,  and  Miss  Moreland." 

Norah  acknowledged  the  introductions  grace- 
fully, proffering  her  seat  to  the  elder  woman. 

"Miss  Grant?"  Mrs.  Granville  questioned  curi- 
ously. "Are  you  by  any  chance  related  to  the  Grants 
of  Redwood  City?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Granville^  I  have  no  relations  in 
America  on  my  father's  side.  They  are  all  in 
Scotland." 

"What  part  of  Scotland?"  Irene  Moreland,  the 
niece  from  Honolulu,  drawled.  "When  we  were 
abroad  last  year  we  found  Scotland  so  interesting 
with  its  highland  bonnie  lassies." 

"When  I  was  at  Mills  College,"  Florence  Gran- 
ville announced,  "I  knew  a  Myrtle  Grant.  Her 
family  lived  in  Sacramento,  I  believe." 

"When  are  you  returning  to  Honolulu,  or  have 
you  decided  to  spend  the  winter  here,  Miss  More- 
land?"  Norman  thought  it  time  to  change  the 
subject. 

"My  aunt  has  persuaded  me  to  remain  here,"  was 
the  somewhat  bored  answer.  "The  prospects,  I  am 
assured,  are  for  a  gay  season,  and  I'm  looking  for- 
ward to  an  exciting  time." 

"Do  you  live  down  this  way,  or  are  you  from  San 
Francisco,  Miss  Grant?"  Mrs.  Granville  was  not 
to  be  deferred;  her  curiosity  had  to  be  appeased. 


132  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"My  home  is  in  San  Francisco,"  Norah  answered 
cheerfully.  "My  mother  and  I  have  an  apartment 
on  Pine  Street,  near  Jones."  Might  as  well  get  it 
over  with  speedily,  she  thought. 

"Are  you  a  golf  enthusiast,  Miss  Grant?"  Flor- 
ence asked.  "I'm  fairly  crazy  about  it." 

"No,  I  know  nothing  at  all  about  golf." 

"Well,  you're  missing  a  great  deal.  You'd  better 
hurry  up  and  learn!  Do  you  play  bridge?" 

"No,  Miss  Granville,  I  fear  you  will  find  me 
rather  dull."  Norah  laughed.  "I  work  from  nine 
in  the  morning  until  after  five  every  afternoon,  and 
nearly  all  my  evenings  are  given  up  to  reading." 

Florence  flushed  as  she  commented:  "How  inter- 
esting!" but  inwardly  she  felt  that  she  was  being 
laughed  at,  and  it  did  not  set  well  with  this  daughter 
of  the  haul  monde,  so  much  more  used  to  homage. 

It  was  Frances  who  tactfully  inveigled  her  guests 
into  a  discussion  of  fashions.  A  never-failing  topic 
of  interest!  Would  skirts  be  worn  narrow  or  full; 
hair  dressed  high  or  low;  or  the  prevailing  shade  be 
brown  or  gray? 

"I'm  going  to  rescue  you  from  this  uninteresting 
discussion,  Dr.  Rogers."  Irene  Moreland  jumped 
up  and  held  out  her  hand.  "I  want  you  to  take  me 
for  a  stroll  about  these  lovely  grounds." 

"I  must  confess  that  I  was  enjoying  it  all  im- 
mensely!" Norman  was  reluctant  to  go,  but  found 
it  impossible  to  refuse. 

"Now,  you're  just  trying  to  be  nice,  you  know  you 
are!"  She  linked  her  arm  within  his  and  started 
down  the  steps.  "I  know  you'll  excuse  us,"  she 
remembered,  turning  to  the  others,  "we  won't  be 
long." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  133 

As  they  disappeared  around  the  side  of  the  house, 
Mrs.  Granville  felt  a  word  of  apology  necessary. 

"Irene  is  so  impulsive,"  she  deplored,  with  a  lan- 
guid uplift  of  jeweled  hands.  "I  hope  you  won't 
consider  her  forward,  Miss  Rogers.  She  always 
does  the  unconventional  thing." 

"Perhaps  you  and  Florence  would  like  to  see  the 
garden  also,"  Frances  suggested.  She  sensed  that 
Norman  had  been  dragged  away  against  his  will, 
and  she  did  not  relish  that.  "Miss  Grant,"  she 
added,  "has  been  through  it  once,  but  I  don't  think 
she  will  object  to  going  again.  Will  you?" 

"I  much  prefer  sitting  here,"  Mrs.  Granville 
answered  before  Norah  had  a  chance  to  speak.  "I 
detest  walking." 

"If  you  would  walk  a  little  you  might  lose  some 
of  your  fat,"  Florence  commented.  "That's  why 
I've  been  after  you  to  take  up  golf." 

"I  can't  understand  why  you  persist  in  calling  me 
fat!"  Mrs.  Granville  was  indignant.  "I  may  be 
a  little  overweight,  but  no  one  could  call  me  fat. 
I'll  ask  Dr.  Rogers, — why,  here  they  are  now, — they 
didn't  do  much  walking." 

"What  will  you  ask  Dr.  Rogers?"  Norman 
queried  as  he  and  Irene  came  up  the  steps.  "I  just 
heard  my  name  mentioned." 

"I'll  ask  you  some  other  time,"  answered  the 
matron  quickly,  "in  the  privacy  of  your  office.  You 
couldn't  have  seen  much  of  the  garden,  Irene,"  she 
broke  off. 

"Dr.  Rogers  discovered  that  it  was  time  for  him 
to  drive  Miss  Grant  back  to  the  city,"  she  pouted, 
with  difficulty  hiding  her  vexation.  "So  we  had  to 
postpone  our  walk  for  another  time." 


134  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Yes,  Miss  Grant,  I'm  sorry  to  tear  you  away, 
but  if  we're  to  reach  your  home  in  time  for  dinner, 
we'll  have  to  start."  He  turned  as  he  reached  the 
door.  "I'm  going  after  my  overcoat." 

Norah  glanced  at  her  wrist-watch.  She  wondered 
why  he  was  in  such  a  hurry,  as  they  could  have  re- 
mained a  half  hour  longer,  easily.  But  she  rose 
obediently  and  began  to  bid  each  one  farewell. 
Frances  went  with  her  to  the  car,  while  Norman 
lingered  for  a  word  with  their  guests. 

"Do  come  again  soon,  Miss  Grant,"  she  begged 
heartily.  "I  have  so  enjoyed  meeting  you.  I  see 
Norman  hasn't  forgotten  the  flowers  for  your 
mother " 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Rogers."  She  took  the  large 
bouquet  from  Norman  as  he  seated  himself  beside 
her.  "I  have  spent  a  delightful  afternoon,  and,"  she 
added  impulsively  for  her,  as  her  gloved  hand  rested 
a  moment  in  that  of  her  hostess,  "it  hasn't  seemed 
like  meeting  a  stranger — your  brother  has  told  me  so 

much "  The  warm  pressure  of  Frances'  fingers 

thanked  her. 

As  Norah  and  the  doctor  drove  through  the  gate, 
he  spoke  suddenly,  and,  for  him,  savagely:  "I  hope 
you'll  forgive  me  for  dragging  you  away  so  much 
earlier  than  necessary,  Norah,  but  I  couldn't  stand 
that  human  ukelele  another  minute." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

DR.  ROGERS'  sedan  had  scarcely  turned  out 
of  the  driveway  before  Mrs.  Granville,  un- 
able to  control  her  curiosity  another  moment, 
turned  to  Frances. 

"Is  Miss  Grant  an  old  friend  of  yours,  Miss 
Rogers?"  she  asked.  "I've  never  heard  you  mention 
her?" 

"Miss  Grant's  mother  is  a  patient  of  my 
brother's."  To  Frances  the  truth  always  seemed 
best.  "Don't  you  think  she  is  a  beautiful  girl?" 

"Beautiful!"  Mrs.  Granville  was  amazed.  "Why, 
I  think  she's  positively  plain,  and  as  long  as  she 
is  not  a  particular  friend  of  yours,  I  don't  mind 
adding  that  her  style  is  atrocious." 

"Why,  mother,  I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all!" 
Florence  never  hesitated  about  saying  what  she 
thought  or  meant.  "I  think  Miss  Grant  is  very 
attractive,  and  I  rather  admire  her  simple,  tailored 
clothes."  She  fluffed  out  her  own  ruffles,  though, 
with  a  complaisance  that  intimated  satisfaction  with 
her  own  style. 

"Well,  Aunt  Ida,"  Irene  came  to  the  rescue,  "I 
agree  with  you.  She's  not  at  all  pretty,  and  one 
can  easily  see  her  clothes  are  homemade." 

"I  don't  think  this  is  very  kind!"  A  slow,  red 
flush  suffused  Frances'  usually  placid  features,  and 
a  peculiar  light  flashed  from  her  brown  eyes,  as  she 
remonstrated.  "If  you  don't  agree  with  me  about 

135 


136  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Miss  Grant's  looks  I  can't  prevent  you  from  ex- 
pressing your  opinions,  but  to  discuss  her  clothes  and 
ridicule  them  seems  to  me  very  poor  taste." 

"Bravo,  Miss  Rogers!"  Florence  clapped  her 
hands.  "Irene  is  peeved  because  your  brother  was 
particularly  attentive  to  Miss  Grant.  You  sec,  she  is 
generally  the  center  of  attraction  when  there  arc  any 
men  about,  and  she  can't  understand  being  slighted." 

Irene  could  hardly  control  herself,  as  she  half 
sputtered:  "If  you  wish  to  accuse  me  of  jealousy, 
as  your  words  seem  to  imply,  at  least  do  me  the 
honor  to  assume  I  should  not  envy  a  shop  girl." 

"Miss  Moreland!  Just  a  moment "  Although 

she  was  palely  calm,  Frances  Rogers  felt  as  though 
she  would  like  to  shake  this  insolent  young  person. 
"Miss  Grant  is  not  a  shop  girl,  but  even  if  she  were, 
she  would  still  be  a  lady.  I  know  many  shop  girls 
»  who  could  give  our  so-called  ladies  lessons  in  de- 
portment. Miss  Grant,  however,  is  private  secre- 
tary and  general  manager  in  the  office  of  Daniel 
Thorne, — you  know  him,  I'm  sure,  Mrs.  Granville," 
turning  her  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  older 
woman  whose  nod  gave  assent.  "She  occupies  a 
position  in  San  Francisco  that  not  only  any  girl,  but 
many  a  man,  might  well  envy." 

"I'm  afraid  I  started  all  this  discussion,"  Mrs. 
Granville  felt  called  upon  to  remark,  with  an  air 
of  contrition,  "but  I  must  admit  that  after  Miss 
Grant  said  she  worked  every  day  I  was  just  a  bit 
curious  as  to  her  exact  occupation." 

"You're  always  a  bit  curious  about  everything, 
aren't  you,  mother?"  Florence  laughed  as  she  rose 
and  stretched  herself  lazily.  "We'd  better  be  go- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  1ST 

ing,  or  this  ridiculous  argument  will  forfeit  us  our 
welcome." 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Granville!  I  hope  I  haven't 
been  rude "  Frances  hastened  to  redeem  her- 
self as  hostess. 

"The  only  rude  person  around  here  is  Florence," 
Irene  pouted  again,  as  she,  too,  rose  from  her  chair 
lazily,  with  all  the  langour  she  believed  should 
accompany  her  heralding  as  a  daughter  of  a  tropical 
island. 

"That's  the  way  those  girls  go  on  all  day,  Miss 
Rogers.  I  don't  know  what  I'll  do  with  them  all 
winter,"  Mrs.  Granville  explained,  as  she  prepared 
to  depart. 

"Maybe  I'd  better  return  to  Honolulu,  Aunt  Ida 
— Florence  doesn't  seem  to  want  me  here."  Irene 
was  close  to  tears. 

"You're  a  big  baby!"  Impulsively  Florence 
threw  her  arms  about  her  cousin.  "And  I'm  a  big 
tease!  Come  on — we'll  pay  another  call  down  the 
road,  and  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  nicest  boy  in  the 
world.  That  ought  to  make  you  forgive  me." 

"As  if  anyone  could  remain  angry  with  you, 
Florence!"  Irene  responded  sweetly.  "Good-by, 
Miss  Rogers — but  I  must  admit  that  even  though 
I,  for  one,  do  not  consider  your  friend,  Miss  Grant, 
either  beautiful  or  attractive,  she  evidently  possesses 
some  sort  of  irresistible  charm  to  have  caused  all 
this  argument." 

When  her  guests  had  departed,  Frances  went 
slowly  indoors  and  upstairs  to  her  own  room.  On 
either  side  of  the  black  walnut  four  poster  bed  hung 
the  pictures  of  her  father  and  mother.  She  stood 


138  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

for  a  few  moments  and  gazed  at  them  steadily;  then 
she  seated  herself  in  a  low  rocker  beside  the  window 
to  think  of  Norman.  She  had  had  the  entire  care 
of  him  since  he  was  ten  years  old,  and  she  would 
willingly  have  sacrificed  herself,  or  anyone  else, 
where  his  happiness  was  concerned.  That  night  she 
would  question  him  about  this  girl.  She  had  seen 
the  lovelight  in  his  eyes, — but  not  in  Norah's. 

Norah  and  Norman  arrived  at  the  apartment  at 
six  o'clock.  Dinner  was  ready,  and  Susan,  who  had 
come  over  with  her  family  at  four,  had  set  the  table 
and  helped  her  mother  and  Mrs.  Chase  with  the 
final  touches. 

"I  wish  I  had  known  you  intended  having  Dr. 
Rogers  for  dinner,"  Susan  fussed  and  fumed  all  the 
time  she  was  arranging  the  table.  "I'd  have  brought 
over  my  things  and  tried  to  put  a  little  style  to  this 
table.  We  could  have  put  a  whole  box  of  things 
in  the  back  of  the  car." 

"Why  didn't  you  'phone,  ma,  and  tell  us  about 
it?"  Jack  looked  up  from  the  sporting  pages  of  the 
Examiner  to  inquire. 

"Why,  I  don't  see  what  there  was  to  tell,"  Mrs. 
Grant  answered  quietly.  "Dr.  Rogers  has  had 
dinner  with  us  many  times,  and  we  never  have  any- 
thing different." 

"That's  just  it,  mama, — you  and  Norah  are  so 
terribly  out  of  date!"  Susan  stopped  in  the  midst 
of  distributing  butter  balls  at  each  place  to  put  in 
her  plaint.  "Why  don't  you  try  to  make  a  hit  with 
Dr.  Rogers?  He's  used  to  going  in  the  best  society, 
and — I  always  did  kick  at  this  awful  dinner  set," 
she  complained,  as  she  picked  up  one  of  the  plain 
white  plates  with  its  narrow  gold  band.  "Didn't  I 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  139 

beg  Norah  to  get  one  with  blue  birds  or  pink  roses, 
like  mine?" 

"You  know  Norah's  tastes  are  simple,  Susy." 

"  'Simple' !  I'll  say  they  are!"  Jack  laughed  bois- 
terously. "Why  don't  she  take  a  few  lessons  in 
style  from  my  wife?  Do  you  know,  ma,  we  had  six 
people  for  dinner  last  Wednesday  night  and  it  would 
have  made  you  proud  to  have  seen  the  way  Susy 
decorated  the  dining  room  and  the  table." 

"And  I  could  have  brought  over  all  those  decora- 
tions and  used  them  here,  if  I  had  only  known  it," 
Susan  sighed. 

"The  beauty  of  it  was,"  Jack  went  on,  proudly 
enthusiastic,  "it  cost  so  little.  She  used  yellow  crepe 
paper  and  hung  it  in  strips  leading  from  the  electric 
dome  over  the  table  to  the  corners  of  the  room. 
The  tablecloth  and  napkins  were  yellow  paper  over 
the  white  cloth,  and  the  flowers  were  big  bunches 
of  yellow  poppies  the  kids  gathered  in  the  Piedmont 
hills.  It  certainly  was  pretty!  Everyone  admired 
it,  and  thought  we  had  a  decorator." 

"But,  my  dear  Jack "  Mrs.  Grant  was 

bewildered,  "I  can't  imagine  all  those  yellow 
decorations  against  the  bright  red  walls  of  your 
dining  room!" 

"You'd  have  been  surprised,  mama,"  Susan  put 
in.  "It  was  beautiful.  Don't  pay  any  attention  to 
what  anyone  tells  you  about  colors  clashing  and  all 
that.  I  like  to  be  different,  anyhow,  and  set  a  style 
of  my  own." 

"When  it  comes  to  style  you  have  to  go  a  long 
way  to  beat  my  wife,"  admired  proud  Jack.  "Say, 
that  table  looks  like  the  dickens  without  any  flowers 
on  it.  Is  there  a  florist  around  here?" 


140  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"There's  one  on  Sutter  Street,  about  two  blocks 
from  here,  but  I  don't  believe  they're  open  on  Sun- 
day. Don't  bother,  Jack,"  advised  Mrs.  Grant, 
pulling  down  the  shades.  "Oh,  here's  Norah  and 
Dr.  Rogers  now,  and  Norah  has  her  arms  full  of 
flowers." 

After  introducing  Norman  to  Susy,  Jack  and  the 
boys,  Norah  excused  herself  for  a  moment  to  tidy 
up  a  bit,  while  Mrs.  Grant  arranged  some  of  the 
flowers  in  a  large  bowl  and  placed  them  in  the  center 
of  the  table.  Norman  made  himself  particularly 
agreeable  to  Norah's  family,  talking  automobiles 
with  Jack,  society  with  Susan,  and  baseball  with  the 
boys. 

Before  they  were  half  through  with  dinner,  Jack 
was  calling  him  "Doc,"  telling  him  jokes  and  acting 
as  though  he  had  known  him  all  his  life.  At  first 
Norah  had  felt  inclined  to  feel  embarrassed  and 
ashamed,  but  she  quickly  banished  the  thought  and 
inwardly  chided  herself  for  her  disloyalty.  What 
if  Jack  was  a  little  uncouth,  and  rather  loud?  Sup- 
pose Susan's  grammar  was  atrocious  at  times,  and 
she  tried  to  impress  upon  everyone  that  she  was  a 
real  sport?  Or  if  Robert  and  Junior  joined  in  the 
conversation  and  answered  back  impertinently  when 
they  were  spoken  to,  and  their  father  and  mother 
laughed  and  said  they  were  too  cute  for  anything? 
What  of  it  all?  Weren't  they  still  her  very  own? 
She  never  would  b'e  ashamed  of  them, — no  matter 
what  they  did. 

Just  as  they  were  starting  the  dessert, — one  of 
Mrs.  Grant's  famous  shortcakes, — a  telephone  call 
came  for  Dr.  Rogers.  He  had  been  expecting  it, 
and  had  left  word  where  to  find  him. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  141 

"Can't  you  even  finish  your  dinner,  doctor?"  Mrs. 
Grant  begged,  starting  to  pour  his  coffee. 

"I'm  afraid  not,  Mrs.  Grant.  I  know  this  call 
is  important;  but  if  I'm  not  kept  too  long  I  promise 
to  come  back  for  my  dessert  and  coffee." 

"I  wish  I  was  a  doctor,"  Robert  announced  sud- 
denly. 

"Why,  Robert?"  Dr.  Rogers  smiled  as  he  but- 
toned his  overcoat. 

'  'Cause  then  I  could  jump  up  and  leave  the  table 
whenever  I  wanted  to,  and  daddy  wouldn't  yell  at 
me  to  come  back!" 

Under  cover  of  the  laugh,  Jack  glowed,  as  he 
murmured:  "Devilish  bright  kid,  that  boy  is!" 

"He's  a  fine  fellow  all  right!"  Jack  was  the  first 
to  express  his  opinion  after  the  doctor  had  gone. 
"A  regular  guy — if  he  is  a  doctor." 

"He's  handsome;  and  as  jolly  as  he  can  be!" 
Susan  contributed  her  bit.  "He'd  make  a  dandy 
brother-in-law,  and  we  could  save  a  lot  of  money  by 
having  a  doctor  in  the  family." 

"Susan,"  Mrs.  Grant  shook  her  head,  warningly, 
"you  are  so  tactless." 

"That's  all  right,  mama, — I  don't  mind  Susy." 
Norah  smiled,  but  her  face  turned  serious  as  she 
glanced  about  at  the  family  party,  and  invited:  "I 
have  something  to  tell  you  all,  if  Jack  will  send  the 
boys  into  the  other  room  for  a  few  minutes." 

"Here,  you,  kids, — hustle  into  the  other  room  and 
read  the  funny  paper,"  Jack  commanded. 

"We  read  it  this  morning,"  Robert  began  to 
argue,  "and  I  don't  want  to  go  in  the  other  room. 
I  want  to  hear  Aunt  Norah  tell  a  story. 

"Aunt  Norah' s  not  going  to  tell  a  story  now, 


14*  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

darling."  Norah  put  her  arm  about  him  and  kissed 
him.  "You  run  into  my  room  and  you'll  find  some 
candy  in  a  box  on  the  bureau.  You  may  have  two 
pieces !" 

"Righto !  Come  on,  Junior, — Aunt  Norah  says 
we  can  have  two  pieces  of  her  candy " 

They  were  in  the  hall,  clattering  toward  the  bed- 
room as  Norah  closed  the  door  after  them  and 
turned  to  her  people. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  she  started  slowly,  "that 
Dr.  Rogers,  this  afternoon,  asked  me  to  marry 
him " 

"Oh,  you  darling!"  Susan  ran  over  and  kissed 
her  effusively.  "You  lucky  girl!" 

"Congratulations,  Norah!"  Jack  put  aside  his 
cigar  and  grasped  her  hand.  "Too  bad  you  didn't 
tell  us  while  he  was  here." 

Mrs.  Grant,  her  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  opened 
her  mouth  to  speak,  but  Norah  hurried  on  before 
she  had  a  chance. 

"I— refused  Dr.  Rogers." 

The  words  were  a  bombshell  cast  among  them. 

"You — you — what!"  shrieked  Jack,  the  first  to 
find  breath. 

"You  heard  me,  Jack,"  replied  his  sister-in-law 
calmly.  "I  declined  the  honor  of  becoming  Dr. 
Rogers'  wife." 

"Well,  you  must  be  crazy!  What  are  you  waiting 
for?"  Susan,  too,  found  her  voice  at  last.  "Mama," 
she  entreated,  "why  don't  you  say  something?  Do 
you  hear!  She  refused  him!" 

"What  is  there  to  say,  Susy?"  Mrs.  Grant  asked, 
saoly.  "Norah  knows  her  own  mind." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  145 

"Mind!"  Jack  laughed  contemptuously.  "If  you 
ask  me,  I  don't  believe  she's  got  any  mind!" 

"You're  twenty-five  years  old,  Norah  Grant,  and 
this  is  the  first  proposal  you  ever  had!  I'm  pretty 
sure  of  that!"  Susan  was  getting  more  excited 
every  minute.  "He's  everything  a  girl  could  wish 
for, — handsome,  rich,  and  a  real  gentleman,  and 
you  have  the  nerve  to  refuse  him!  Serves  you  right 
if  you  never  have  another  offer  as  long  as  you  lirct" 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  growing 
angry  momentarily,  Norah  laughed.  "You  would 
consider  that  a  great  tragedy,  wouldn't  you,  Susan?" 
she  asked. 

"Norah,"  the  mother  ventured  quite  gently, 
"really,  dear,  I,  myself,  don't  think  you  could  eve/  do 
any  better." 

"Mama !  I  want  you,  and  Susan  and  Jacfc,  all 
to  listen  to  me." 

As  the  girl  had  listened  to  the  freely  expressed 
opinions  on  her  sanity  and  reliability,  Norah's  face 
had  paled  to  a  waxen  whiteness.  Even  the  lips 
through  which  the  words  came  were  bloodless,  but 
her  voice  was  steady  as  she  faced  them,  these 
people  who  were  her  own;  in  all  the  world,  her  mis- 
understanding own. 

"This  is  not,  nor  ever  has  been  a  question  of  doing 
better,"  she  told  them  quietly.  "I  like  and  admire 
Dr.  Rogers  more  than  any  man  I  know,  but  I'm  not 
in  love  with  him ;  I'm  not  in  love  with  any  man.  The 
thing  is  simply  this,  and  you  might  as  well  under- 
stand it  right  now!  I  never  intend  to  marry  any- 
one!" 

"So  that's  the  idea !"  Susan  threw  down  the  napkin 
with  which  she  had  been  toying,  impatiently.  "All 


144  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

that  old  nonsense  over  again  about  being  an  old  maid 
and  independent  and  what  not?  I  knew  you  were 
always  rather  dippy  on  that  subject  when  you  were 
young,  but  I  thought  as  you  grew  older  you  would 
see  how  silly  it  was." 

"If  you  mean  it's  silly  to  work  your  way  up  in  the 
world  until  you  hold  a  position  such  as  mine,  and 
draw  the  salary  I'm  getting,  I  can't  agree  with  you." 
Norah  tried  hard  not  to  appear  egotistical,  but  she 
felt  she  had  a  right  to  assert  herself. 

"That  part  is  all  right,  Norah,"  Jack  attempted 
to  pacify  her.  "You  deserve  all  kinds  of  credit  for 
advancing  as  you  have,  but  it's  got  to  end  some  time. 
You're  twenty-five,  now.  It  can't  go  on  for- 
ever  " 

"What  can't  go  on  forever?"  she  asked  calmly. 

"Your  working  and  remaining  single." 

"I've  only  just  begun  my  work.  I  intend  to  go  on 
and  on  until  I  achieve  the  biggest  possible  things." 
Her  eyes  sparkled  with  enthusiasm,  a  glowing  fire 
that  those  who  listened  could  not  comprehend.  "I 
shall  never  give  up  my  independence." 

''Independence!'  Fiddlesticks!  Come  on,  Susy, 
get  on  your  things — I'm  not  going  to  have  you  listen 
to  such  nonsense.  I'll  attend  to  the  boys."  He 
started  toward  the  other  room. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  worry  about  me,  Jack,"  Susan 
laughed,  "I  never  was  like  Norah;  my  mind  was 
made  up  to  have  a  husband  when  I  was  fourteen." 

"I'm  sorry  to  see  you  all  so  disappointed,"  Norah 
apologized,  "but  you  must  remember  that  my  life  is 
my  own,  and  I  have  a  right  to  live  it  as  I  please." 
There  was  a  ring  of  determination  in  her  voice  that 
was  not  to  be  misunderstood. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  145 

"I  suppose  you're  right,  Norah "  Susan 

was  adjusting  her  veil,  but  she  stopped  with  a  pin  in 
her  mouth  to  speak  her  mind.  "If  you  choose  to 
make  a  fool  of  yourself  it's  nobody's  business  but 
your  own.  Good-by,  mama;  we  had  a  lovely 
dinner.  I'll  be  over  Wednesday."  But  as  she 
kissed  her  mother,  she  whispered  in  her  ear:  "See 
if  you  can't  make  her  change  her  mind." 

"Say,  ma,  can  I  see  you  alone  for  a  moment?" 
Jack  beckoned  to  Mrs.  Grant.  "Start  ahead  with 
the  boys,  Susy,"  he  ordered  in  husbandly  fashion, 
" — I'll  follow  right  away." 

Norah  went  to  the  door  with  Susan,  an  arm  about 
each  of  her  nephews,  as  Mrs.  Grant  followed  her 
son-in-law  into  the  living  room. 

"It's  about  Norah,  I  suppose,  Jack?"  she  queried 
uneasily. 

"Of  course!  You  know,  ma,  Norah  will  do  any- 
thing for  you,  and  you  should  insist  upon  her  marry- 
ing Dr.  Rogers." 

"But  you  heard  what  she  said  about  marrying — 
her  mind's  made  up." 

"A  woman's  mind  can  always  be  changed,"  he 
chuckled,  "and  it's  your  duty  to  see  she  doesn't  throw 
away  the  chance  of  a  lifetime.  It's  all  right,  while 
she  has  you,  but  what  will  become  of  her  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  you?  She'd  never  be  con- 
tented with  Susy  and  me;  we're  not  refined  enough 
for  her.  And  I  know  she  wouldn't  think  of  going  to 
her  brother,  so  she  would  be  absolutely  alone." 

"I've  thought  of  all  that,  Jack,  but  what  can  I 
'do?" 

"Well,  don't  let  her  get  by  so  easy;  just  keep  talk- 
ing this  thing  up  all  the  time,  like  I  do  when  I'm  try- 


146  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

ing  to  sell  an  automobile.  Sometimes  they  buy  it  just 
to  get  rid  of  me." 

"But  I  don't  like  to  nag  Norah.  She's  such  a 
wonderful  daughter." 

"Just  bear  in  mind,  ma,  that  whatever  you  do  is 
for  her  own  good.  Remember  that  now,  and  good- 
night,— Susy  will  be  waiting  for  me."  With  a  re- 
sounding smack  he  kissed  her  and  hurried  out,  calling 
back  a  hasty  farewell  to  Norah. 

Yet  not  a  word  passed  between  mother  and 
daughter  as  they  cleared  the  table  and  did  the  dishes. 
Dr.  Rogers  telephoned  just  as  they  were  finished  to 
say  he  would  be  detained  all  evening  and  regretted 
he  would  not  be  able  to  return  for  his  dessert.  He 
would,  however,  come  to-morrow  evening,  if  they 
would  have  him. 

"Come,  by  all  means,"  Norah  was  compelled  to 
answer. 

"Will  the  doctor  be  able  to  return?"  her  mother, 
glad  of  an  opportunity  to  re-open  the  subject,  asked 
as  Norah  came  into  the  dining  room. 

"No,  he  said  he  would  be  detained  too  late.  But 
he  will  come  for  dinner  to-morrow  evening." 

"Do  you  know,  Norah,  I've  only  known  Dr. 
Rogers  a  short  time,  and  yet  I  couldn't  think  more  of 
him  if  I  had  known  him  all  my  life." 

"Yes,  dear,"  Norah  answered,  quietly.  "He  is 
yery  kind." 

"It  is  wonderful  to  think  that  he  could  love  my 
little  girl.  I  could  die  happy  if  I  knew  I  left  you  in 
his  care." 

"Mama,  dear!"  Norah  knelt  beside  her  chair. 
"Don't  you  remember  how  you  and  I  talked  this  all 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  147 

over  before,  when  I  told  you  I  thought  you  were  mis- 
taken in  thinking  Dr.  Rogers  cared  for  me?" 

"Yes,  dear,  I  remember, — and  you  see  I  was  not 
mistaken.  I  think  you  should  know  by  now  that  your 
mother  is  right  in  most  things, — at  least  where  they 
concern  her  dear  ones, — and  don't  you  think  you 
ought  to  listen  to  her?" 

"Mama,  feeling  as  I  do  about  Dr.  Rogers, — just 
liking  and  respecting  him,  but  not  loving  him, — do 
you  think  it  would  be  right  for  me  to  marry  him?" 
Norah  put  the  question  bluntly. 

"My — I — I "  Mrs.  Grant  was  confused. 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  answer  you.  Liking  and  re- 
specting are  the  next  thing^  to  love;  that  would,  no 
doubt,  come  later." 

"And  if  it  didn't?  Just  think  what  that  would 
mean !  No,  mama,  even  if  I  were  willing  to  give  up 
my  independence,  I  couldn't  marry  a  man  I  didn't 
love." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  Norah."  Mrs.  Grant 
Hecided  to  let  the  matter  rest,  at  least  for  the  present. 
A  little  diplomacy  could  do  no  harm. 

When  Susan  came  over  on  Wednesday,  Mrs. 
Grant  cautioned:  "You  can't  treat  Norah  as  you 
would  a  disobedient  child.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  let 
her  alone  and  give  her  an  opportunity  to  realize  for 
herself  what  a  fine  man  Dr.  Rogers  is." 

"Then  she  hasn't  stopped  seeing  him,  or  anything 
like  that?"  Susan  asked,  surprised. 

"No,  indeed !  He  came  in  for  dinner  Monday 
night  and  stayed  till  nearly  ten  o'clock,  when  he  was 
called  to  a  patient.  Yesterday  he  sent  her  a  five 
pound  box  of  candy  and  three  new  books." 


148  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Well,  at  least  that  don't  look  as  if  he'd  lost 
interest  or  minded  a  little  thing  like  a  refusal," 
Susan  laughed.  "Jack  will  be  tickled  to  hear  this. 
He  was  dreadfully  put  out  with  Norah  and  all  her 
ideas  about  being  independent.  He  says  she's  get- 
ting to  be  a  fanatic  on  the  subject, — whatever  that 
means." 

For  the  next  few  months  not  one  of  the  family 
mentioned  marriage  to  Norah.  She  went  about 
continually  with  Dr.  Rogers,  but  she  saw  to  it  that 
her  mother  nearly  always  accompanied  them.  She 
had  visited  Frances  Rogers  a  number  of  times,  and 
Frances  had  come  in  one  Saturday  to  have  luncheon 
with  her  and  go  to  the  matinee.  A  warm  friendship 
was  springing  up  between  them,  and  if  she  had 
failed  to  recognize  any  of  Norman's  splendid  quali- 
ties, his  sister  had  soon  enlightened  her. 

More  and  more  she  was  compelled  to  admit  to 
herself  her  liking  for  him.  But  not  till  one  day, — 
and  always  there  must  come  such  a  day, — that  day 
that  came  when  Norah  Grant  believed  Norman 
Rogers  had  been  taken  from  her  forever;  that  day 
there  came,  with  the  suddenness,  the  numbing  of  a 
Jovian  bolt,  the  knowledge — She  Loved  Him ! 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  fact  that  all  emotions  are  so  interwoven  as 
to  be  relative  one  with  the  other  is  not  a  new 
discovery.  The  newness  lies  with  the  recur- 
rent discovery  with  each  individual.  And  to  each 
individual,  year  in,  year  out,  as  has  been  the  case 
year  in,  and  year  out  since  the  beginning  of  time, 
comes  the  new  wonder  that  fear  and  love,  hate  and 
sympathy,  anger  and  benevolence,  all  feelings,  are 
brought  about  one  by  the  other. 

So  with  Norah  Grant.  Ever  after  it  was  a  matter 
of  wonder  to  her  that  it  should  have  been  tragedy, 
or  something  nearly  resembling  it,  that  woke  her  to 
the  fact  that  it  was  not  a  disinterested  friendly  feel- 
ing merely  that  she  held  for  Dr.  Norman  Rogers, 
but  a  love  overwhelming  that  overtopped  anything 
she  had  ever  known  in  her  life.  As  in  every  case,  it 
was  brought  home  to  her  in  as  unexpected  as  tragic 
a  manner. 

It  was  late  one  Saturday  evening,  seeming  later 
than  it  was  from  the  early  dusk  that  had  fallen  with 
an  accompanying  lowering  sky  and  a  fog  that  rolled 
in  from  the  bay  when  Norah,  lighting  the  rosy-hued 
floor  lamp,  turned  to  answer  the  quick  ring  at  the 
bell.  Her  eyes  lighted  with  pleasure  as  Dr.  Norman 
Rogers  stood  there. 

ujust  took  a  chance  you  might  be  here,"  he 
laughed,  breezily.  "I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  be, 
for  I  heard  you  say  last  night  that  you  would  meet 

149 


150  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

your  mother  at  four  and  go  with  her  to  select  a 
coat." 

"And  naturally  you  thought  when  women  go  to 
select  coats,"  she  suggested  with  a  laugh  in  return, 
"it  would  take  a  great  deal  longer  than  an  hour." 

"Well,  I've  known  Frances  to  start  out  on  Mon- 
day to  buy  something,  and  when  I've  asked  her  about 
it  on  Saturday,  she  has  told  me  she  hadn't  been  able 
to  find  a  thing  to  her  liking." 

"Sometimes  things  are  hard  to  find,"  explained  the 
girl  as  she  offered  him  the  box  of  bonbons  he  had 
brought  her  and  which  she  hastily  opened.  "But  to- 
day, we  were  fortunate.  I  met  mama  at  four  at  the 
White  House,  and  by  four-thirty  she  had  selected 
her  coat,  had  it  fitted  for  the  few  necessary  altera- 
tions, and  were  ready  to  come  home.  We  even 
stopped  for  an  ice  cream  soda  at  Maskey's." 

"Seems  like  a  record  to  me,"  he  nodded,  as  he  re- 
fused the  chair  she  pushed  forward.  "No,  I  haven't 
time.  I'm  on  my  way  to  see  a  patient  out  near  the 
park  and  I  thought  you  and  your  mother  might  like 
to  take  the  ride  with  me.  I'll  only  be  there  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  we  can  drive  on  out  to  the  Cliff 
House  for  dinner." 

Norah  turned  to  her  mother  inquiringly,  as  the 
older  woman  came  into  the  room  to  greet  their  guest. 

"I'm  terribly  sorry,"  Mrs.  Grant  told  him,  regret- 
fully, "but  I  don't  believe  I  can  go.  I  promised  Mrs. 
Williams  to  show  her  that  new  embroidery  stitch  to- 
night, and  I  wouldn't  disappoint  her  for  anything, — 
she's  been  so  kind  and  attentive  to  me." 

"Show  it  to  her  to-morrow,"  Norman  suggested. 

"Her  husband  is  out  of  town,  but  he  is  coming 
back  to-morrow,  so  her  time  will  be  taken  up  with 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  151 

him.  No,  I'll  go  in  to  see  her,  after  I've  had  my  tea, 
and  you  and  Norah  go  on  out  and  enjoy  the 
evening." 

"I'd  much  rather  have  you  come,  mama.  I'll  ask 
Mrs.  Williams  to  excuse  you." 

Perhaps  Dr.  Rogers  may  have  guessed  the  impel- 
ling reason  for  the  decided  negative  of  the  mother  of 
the  girl  he  loved,  but  he  no  longer  urged  when  she 
again  shook  her  head. 

"I  wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing.  Just  go 
ahead, — another  time  for  me.  Don't  forget  your 
heavy  coat,  Norah,  and  don't  forget  that  fog  coming 
in  from  the  bay." 

As  Norah,  cozily  seated  beside  Dr.  Rogers,  snugly 
buttoned  in  her  ulster,  anct  her  companion  drove  out 
Pine  Street,  it  began  to  rain,  a  slow,  dull  misty  fall 
that  seemed  only  the  final  effort  of  the  fog-laden 
atmosphere  to  turn  to  complete  saturation.  When 
they  reached  Van  Ness  the  avenue  was  a  sheet  of 
glass. 

"Nasty  drizzle  and  fog,"  commented  the  doctor, 
as  his  hand  went  up  to  clear  the  wind  shield.  "Been 
this  way  every  evening  this  week, — but  don't  be 
nervous,  I'll  drive  slowly." 

Norah  snuggled  down  more  comfortably.  "I'm 
never  nervous,"  she  assured  him.  "And  as  for  the 
fog,  I  love  it.  Somehow  fogs  seem  tonic  to  me." 

How  often  is  the  comment  repeated  concerning 
the  small  things  that  are  impressed  on  the  human 
mind  immediately  before  or  after  a  vital  event,  im- 
pressions subconsciously  recorded  that  are  ever  after 
to  be  remembered.  Moving  along  at  the  moderate 
rate  they  were,  Norah  saw  the  passing  people.  She 
remembered  the  delivery  wagon  that  passed,  the  boy 


152  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

who  drove  it,  with  one  hand  holding  his  flapping 
coat;  the  lights  of  a  car  far  down  the  street;  the 
winking  tail  light  of  a  car  that  hastened  on  ahead  of 
them  leaving  its  shining  ribbon  on  the  mirrored  sur- 
face of  the  asphalt;  the  woman  with  her  arms  full  of 
bundles,  and  the  three-year-old  child  clinging  to  her 
skirts  who  peered  anxiously  for  the  car  for  which  she 
waited.  All  these  things,  equally  subconsciously 
recorded,  and  apparently  of  equally  as  little  interest 
in  the  lives  of  the  two  inside  the  sedan. 

And  yet 

There  was  no  accounting  for  the  action  of  the 
child.  No  one  was  ever  to  know  what  impulse  of  a 
sudden  actuated  her  small  brain.  But  whatever  it 
was,  she  acted  upon  it,  suddenly,  with  tragic  conse- 
quences, for  when  her  hands  so  quickly  dropped  from 
her  mother's  skirts  as  the  car  loomed  up,  and  she 
dashed  with  lightning  speed  into  the  middle  of  the 
street,  straight  in  front  of  the  oncoming  automobile, 
her  action  might  have  been  guided  by  Fate,  herself, 
for  the  consequence  it  had  upon  the  heart  and  life  of 
Norah  Grant. 

In  the  thick  mist,  neither  Norah  nor  Dr.  Grant 
saw  the  child's  action  until  they  were  almost  upon 
her.  With  a  wild  scream,  Norah  started  up  as 
though  by  that  movement  she  could  fling  the  child  to 
safety,  but  her  scream  was  no  more  sudden  than 
that  of  the  frightened  mother  who  darted  out  after 
her  offspring.  Passersby  shrieked,  too,  as  they  saw 
what  seemed  to  be  inevitable  tragedy,  and  either 
stood  stock  still  or  rushed  forward,  as  their  various 
impulses  suggested.  But  Dr.  Norman  Rogers  did 
not  scream.  He  was  used  to  thinking  quickly. 
More  than  one  life  had  hung  in  the  balance  waiting 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  153 

his  quick  decision.  And  he  acted  now.  He  must 
turn  his  car  about.  Must !  There  was  nothing  else 
to  do.  The  brakes  shrieked  a  second  under  the  force 
of  his  foot  impact.  There  was  a  terrific  jolt  as 
he  swung  into  reverse.  To  Norah  Grant,  it  was  like 
a  nightmare,  a  lifetime  of  horror  lived  within  the 
time  of  winking  an  eye. 

She  remembered  the  terrible  sensation  of  revolv- 
ing, one,  two,  three  times  as  the  car  skidded  on  the 
slippery  asphalt.  Groans  of  horror  rose  all  about 
her  from  the  watchers  as  the  juggernaut  the  car 
seemed  to  be,  missed  the  street  car  by  the  fraction  of 
an  inch.  Then, — the  end!  Or  so  it  appeared  at  the 
moment.  Norah  shut  her  eyes  unconsciously  as  the 
crash  came.  The  whole  world  was  spinning  around 
in  that  haze  of  fog.  She  was  hardly  conscious  of  the 
impact  as  the  sedan  crashed  into  the  electric  light 
pole  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  turned  over. 
All  that  she  really  remembered  was  the  frightened 
scream  of  a  little  child,  rising  high  above  the  other 
sounds, — the  cry  of  the  unhurt  baby. 

For  the  first  minute  or  so  she  did  not  realize  what 
had  happened, — did  not  know  that  the  car  had 
turned  over  completely  in  its  final  struggle  and  that 
she  and  Dr.  Rogers  were  pinned  beneath  it.  She 
was  dazed,  stunned;  for  a  moment  she  must  have 
lost  consciousness.  Then  she  felt  hands,  hundreds 
of  them  it  seemed,  reaching  out  to  help  pull  her  from 
the  wreckage.  She  felt  herself  trying  to  call  out  to 
them  that  she  was  unhurt,  but  curiously  enough,  she 
knew  that  she  was  making  no  sound.  She  was  not 
even  thinking  of  herself  or  of  Dr.  Rogers  in  those 
first  moments.  A  still  dazed  brain  was  functioning 
only  to  inquire  into  an  utterly  irrelevant  matter. 


154  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Why  was  it,  was  the  bewildered  thought,  that  no 
matter  how  deserted  a  street  might  seem  to  be,  just 
let  something  happen  and  a  crowd  would  always 
spring  up  from  nowhere.  Where,  for  instance,  had 
all  these  people  come  from,  out  in  the  wet  street  that 
she  so  distinctly  remembered  was  all  but  deserted  but 
a  moment  before, — she  knew  it,  because  she  recalled 
the  impression  of  the  few  people  she  had  seen. 

Then,  she  knew  she  was  out;  knew  she  was  unin- 
jured. She  was  still  dazedly  regarding  herself  to 
make  sure  of  the  wonder  of  it.  The  street  full  of 
people  seemed  all  to  be  talking  at  once.  It  was 
moments  before  she  could  make  out  what  they  were 
saying, — could  pick  out  known  coherent  remarks 
from  the  babel.  Then  she  heard  one  voice  above  the 
rest. 

"Damn'  fool  women !"  she  heard  a  big  blustering 
red-faced  fellow  exclaim  vociferously.  "Why  don't 
they  hang  on  to  their  kids !  Lettin'  'em  shoot  out 
from  everywhere  and  expect  other  people  to  risk 
their  lives  to  save  'em!" 

"Bravest  thing  I  ever  saw,"  a  shabby  young  fellow 
with  a  dinner  pail  under  his  arm  explained  his 
opinion  to  a  group  of  excited  women  who  were  all 
querying  at  once.  "I  was  standing  on  the  front  of 
the  car  next  to  the  motorman  when  this  youngster 
dashes  madly  out  into  the  street.  I  thought  she  was 
making  straight  for  the  car  tracks  when  I  spied  the 
automobile.  The  way  this  fellow  turns  his  wheel 
so's  not  to  run  down  the  kid,  at  the  risk  of  his  own 
life,  was  wonderful!  Why,  if  he'd  gone  right 
ahead,  he  wouldn't  have  had  a  scratch  and  every  wit- 
ness would  have  sworn  it  was  the  child's  own  fault." 

"Has  anyone  been  killed?"    A  fleshy,  middle-aged 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  155 

woman  elbowed  her  way  through  the  crowd,  and  in- 
sistently grasped  the  arm  of  the  policeman  who  was 
trying  to  force  back  the  crowds. 

"Stand  back,  madam!"  he  commanded.  "Can't 
you  see  they're  trying  to  lift  a  man  from  under  that 
car?" 

"Is  he  dead?" 

"I'm  not  here  to  answer  your  questions — back,  I 
tell  you!"  None  too  gently  he  thrust  forth  his  arm. 

"Women's  curiosity  makes  me  sick!"  he  growled, 
'disgustedly.  "They  can't  curb  it  even  in  the  face  of 
death!" 

Death! 

The  word  brought  No  rah  to  herself  with  the  force 
of  an  electric  shock.  Someone  had  brought  out  a 
chair  from  an  apartment  house  and  placed  her,  un- 
protesting,  in  it.  But  at  the  sound  of  that  word  a  cry 
of  horror  escaped  her  as  she  sprang  forward  from 
the  friendly  hands  that  sought  to  detain  her. 

"I  don't  think  you're  hurt  at  all,"  a  woman  told 
her,  kindly,  grasping  her  arm  in  an  effort  to  force 
her  back  into  her  chair. 

"I — I — know!        I'm     all     right — perfectly     all 

right, — but  I  must  go  to  him !     Is  he — is  he " 

The  choking  in  her  throat  made  her  query  all  but  in- 
coherent. 

"Is  lie  your  husband?"  another  woman  was 
asking.  "Oh,  I'm  sure  he'll  be  all  right  as  soon  as 
they  get  him  out." 

"But  I  heard  someone  mention  death!"  Norah's 
words  came  hysterically,  as  she  passed  the  question 
about  her  husband  unheeding. 

But  they  could  not  hold  her  back.  One  by  one 
they  drew  aside  in  realization  of  her  right  to  pre- 


156  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

cedence  over  the  merely  curious.  Even  the  brusque 
officer  was  gentle  as  he  took  her  arm  to  aid  her,  to 
assure:  "He's  all  right,  ma'am!  They've  got  him 
out,  and  he's  coming  around." 

She  seemed  not  to  breathe,  though,  until  after 
what  seemed  an  eternity,  she  heard  Norman  Rogers 
speak. 

"I'm  not  badly  hurt,  Norah,"  he  assured,  weakly, 
half  whisperingly,  smiling  bravely  up  at  her  as  she 
knelt  beside  him.  "Just  cut  up  and  bruised  a  bit." 

"Thank  God!"  was  her  fervent  murmur. 

An  hour  later,  she  sat  beside  his  bed  in  the  St. 
Francis  Hospital  where  he  lay,  white  and  still,  his 
head  and  face  swathed  in  bandages.  Reaching  out, 
he  grasped  her  hand  and  held  it  tightly. 

"I'm  so  grateful,  dear,"  he  murmured,  "to  know 
that  you  were  not  hurt.  If  I  had  stopped  long 
enough  to  consider  that  you  were  beside  me,  I  should 
never  have  acted  as  I  did." 

"Oh,  you  were  wonderful!"  she  whispered,  with 
a  light  of  pride  in  the  eyes,  tender  with  the  newly 
discovered  emotion  that  the  hour  had  brought. 
"I'm  so  proud  of  you!  So  proud!  Everyone  says  it 
was  an  unheard-of  miracle  that  I  escaped  without  a 
scratch.  Outside  of  a  tiny  bruise  on  my  right  knee 
and  the  disreputable  condition  of  my  clothes,  you'd 
never  know  I'd  been  in  an  accident." 

"My  dear!  My  dear!  Nothing  matters  so  long 
as  you  are  safe!"  he  told  her,  as  his  eyes  closed, 
dreamily.  In  a  moment  he  had  dropped  into  a  quiet 
slumber. 

With  her  hand  clasped  in  his,  sitting  in  that  small 
white  room  at  the  hospital,  Norah  tried  to  remember 
just  when,  for  the  first  time,  she  had  realized  how 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  157 

much  she  cared  for  him.  It  was  when  somebody 
asked  if  he  were  dead?  That  must  have  been  the 
time, — when  she  thought  that  nevermore  would  she 
see  the  lovelight  in  his  eyes;  nevermore  would  she 
bask  in  the  sunshine  of  his  wonderful  smile,  or  hear 
the  kind  gentleness  of  his  voice.  Oh,  how  dark  and 
void  everything  had  suddenly  become  to  her  then! 
How  empty  and  useless  life  seemed !  In  this  mo- 
ment, with  love  flooding  her  entire  being,  she  could 
have  cried  aloud  for  the  joy  of  her  glorious  dis- 
covery. She  completely  forgot  the  stand  she  had 
taken  against  marriage;  against  giving  up  her  inde- 
pendence. 

How  right  he  had  been  that  day  he  asked  her  to 
become  his  wife!  There  was  nothing  in  the  world 
to  take  the  place  of  love  ! 

It  was  nearly  a  month  before  Norman  was  able 
to  be  up  and  about  again.  Norah  spent  every  spare 
minute  of  her  time  at  his  side.  She  was  happier  than 
she  had  ever  imagined  any  woman  could  .be,  though 
she  kept  the  secret  of  her  love  buried  deep  within  the 
recesses  of  her  heart  After  that  first  reckless  ex- 
penditure of  thought  over  the  miracle  of  love,  she 
had  calmed  down.  Norman  Rogers  should  not  know 
how  much  she  really  cared  for  him,  and  she  would 
not  marry  him,  unless  (happy  thought)  he  were 
willing  that  she  should  maintain  her  position  of  in- 
dependence. There  came  one  day  an  opportunity  to 
test  him, — to  discover  his  real  views  on  the  subject 
without  making  it  evident  that  she  was  questioning 
him  with  any  thought  of  herself  in  mind. 

A  niece  of  Mrs.  Williams,  Agnes  Chartress,  who 
came  down  from  Stockton  to  spend  a  few  days  with 
her  aunt  and  incidentally  to  do  a  little  shopping, 


158  THE   LOSING  GAIN 

prior  to  her  marriage  to  a  young  clerk  of  that  city, 
was  the  unconscious  means  to  the  end.  Agnes,  a 
charming  and  interesting  girl  two  years  younger  than 
Norah,  formed  a  strong  attachment  for  the  daughter 
of  her  aunt's  neighbor.  As  much  as  possible  during 
her  short  stay  in  the  city,  Agnes  was  with  Norah. 

On  the  day  that  Miss  Chartress  returned  to  Stock- 
ton, Norman  invited  Norah  to  have  dinner  with 
him  at  Solari's.  Norah's  new  friend,  as  was  the 
case  with  all  of  Norah's  interests,  of  course,  came  up 
for  discussion. 

"I'm  so  sorry  she  doesn't  live  here.  I  took  such 
a  fancy  to  her,  and  now  I  may  not  see  her  again  for 
ever  so  long,"  Norah  confided,  regretfully. 

"Maybe  they'll  come  down  for  their  honeymoon. 
Or  are  they  keeping  their  destination  a  secret?"  he 
smiled. 

"No, — they're  going  to  Byron  Springs.  It's 
much  nearer,  and  besides,  they  intend  remaining 
away  only  a  few  days." 

"Where  did  you  say  Miss  Chartress  had  been 
working?" 

"She  still  is  working  for  a  firm  of  architects. 
You  know  she  intends  keeping  her  position  just  the 
same."  She  watched  him  closely  to  detect  the  effect 
of  her  news. 

"Oh!"  His  brows  knitted  slightly.  "How  does 
her  husband,  or  I  should  say  her  husband-to-be,  feel 
about  that?" 

"I  understand  it  was  an  agreement  between  them 
as  soon  as  they  became  engaged." 

"If  he  isn't  able  to  support  a  wife,  it  seems  to  me 
he  shouldn't  marry."  Norman  spoke  with  decision. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  a  question  of  support,"  Norah  in- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  159 

formed  nonchalantly.  "It's  simply  that  Agnes 
doesn't  care  to  depend  on  anyone." 

"Now  I  see  why  you  developed  this  great  admira- 
tion and  liking  for  her,"  Norman  laughed,  indul- 
gently. "She  believes  as  you  do  in  all  this  silly — 

er — er — foolish — I  beg  your  pardon "  He 

tried  to  control  his  laughter  as  he  caught  the  ex- 
pression of  Norah's  face.  He  had  never  seen  her 
angry  before,  but  now  he  knew,  even  as  he  halted 
his  uncompleted  sentence  that  he,  who  would  not 
have  hurt  her  for  the  world,  had  unthinkingly 
aroused  that  unlovely  emotion. 

"Are  you  daring  to  ridicule  me,  Norman 
Rogers?"  She  spoke  sharply,  but  his  keen 
professional  eyes  caught  the  glint  of  tears  back  in 
the  depths  of  the  blue. 

"I'm  sorry,  Norah,  honestly  I  am,  but,"  and  he 
gazed  at  her  admiringly,  "maybe  it  was  worth  it 
after  all.  You're  beautiful,  dear,  when  you're  angry. 
I  never  saw  such  exquisite  coloring,  such " 

"If  you  say  another  word,  I'll — I'll  leave  the 
table!  You  must  think  I'm  a  little  simpleton, — try- 
ing to  pacify  me  with  compliments!  Oh,  how  can 
you  be  so  mean!" 

"I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you,  dear."  He  turned 
to  serenity.  "But  you  shouldn't  have  brought  the 
subject  up.  You  know  perfectly  well  how  I  feel 
about  it." 

"That's  just  it, — what  right  have  you  to  feel  that 
way?  Why  can't  a  woman  have  opinions  of  her 
own,  and  make  her  life  to  suit  herself?  Just  because 
she's  married, — is  that  any  reason  she  shouldn't 
keep  occupied  and  work?" 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  Norah.     Every  married 


160  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

woman  should  keep  occupied  and  work, — but  the 
right  kind  of  work.  What  greater  occupation  is 
there  than  that  of  being  a  good  wife  and  mother? 
The  noblest  work  in  the  world  is  the  building  up 
of  a  home,  of  children's  careers,  of  husbands'  fu- 
tures! That's  where  the  real  work  of  the  married 
woman  lies,  and  if  women  would  only  enter  into 
it  with  the  same  zest  and  spirit  with  which  so  many 
of  them  enter  into  a  business  career,  what  a  lot  of 
unhappiness  would  be  spared." 

"Well,  suppose "  There  was  a  genuine,  if 

reluctant  admiration  in  the  way  she  looked  at  him; 
he  was  so  ardent;  so  sincere  she  could  not  help  but 
melt  a  little.  "Suppose  a  couple  decided  to  marry 
and  the  man  was  not  earning  as  much  as  it  required 
for  them  to  get  along,  and  if  the  girl  was  anxious 
to  work  with  him,  for  a  while,  until  he  could  do 
better,  don't  you  think  she  would  have  the  right  to 
go  on  with  her  work  and  be  happy  with  the  man  she 
loved;  instead  of  allowing  some  foolish  pride  to  step 
in  and  keep  them  apart?" 

"That's  an  entirely  different  situation,"  he 
answered  promptly.  "The  woman  would  be  help- 
ing the  man  because  she  loved  him.  Service  and 
love  would  be  the  firm  foundation  on  which  they 
would  build  up  their  lives  together.  In  a  case  like 
that,  she  would  be  his  real  help-mate  and  deserve 
only  credit  and  admiration  for  giving  up  her  home. 
But  where  a  woman  marries  a  man  who  is  well  able 
to  take  care  of  her  and  her  only  desire  for  a  busi- 
ness career  is  to  flaunt  her  independence  and  abide 
by  some  foolish  declaration,  probably  made  before 
she  was  old  enough  to  know  anything  about  love 
and  the  big  things  that  make  life  worth  while,  that 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  161 

woman,  to  my  mind,  is  doing  a  gross  injustice,  not 
only  to  herself,  and  the  man  she  loves  and  who  loves 
her,  but  to  all  mankind!" 

"Why,  Norman,  you've  never  expressed  yourself; 
quite  so  freely  before!"  Norah  was  greatly  sur- 
prised at  the  outburst,  a  long  one  from  the  man 
whose  usual  conversation  was  more  reserved.  He 
must,  indeed,  think,  and  have  thought  deeply  on  the 
subject.  "I'm  intensely  interested.  Never  mind 
about  the  injustice  to  the  woman  and  the  man,  but 
just  what  do  you  mean  by  one  to  all  mankind?" 

"I'll  explain  my  meaning,  gladly."  He  leaned 
across  the  table  to  gaze  at  her  intently  as  if  trying 
to  fathom  her  innermost  thoughts.  "Just  say,  as 
an  example,  that  you  married  me," — he  pretended 
not  to  heed  the  flood  of  color  that  mounted  to  her 
cheeks — "and  that  I  agreed  to  your  retaining  your 
position  with  Mr.  Thorne.  Wouldn't  you  be  de- 
priving some  other  woman,  or  man  even,  of  earning 
a  living?" 

"I  never  thought  of  that "  Norah's  agree- 
ment was  grudging. 

"Of  course  you  didn't!"  He  hastened  on,  anxious 
to  take  advantage  of  the  first  point  he  had  ever 
scored.  "Here  I  would  be,  able  not  only  to  support 
you,  but  to  provide  you  with  every  luxury  as  well, 
and  you  would  probably  be  taking  the  actual  bread 
and  butter  from  another's  mouth." 

"But  look  at  the  women  who  work!  Whose  hus- 
bands are  probably  a  great  deal  wealthier  than  you !" 

"I  know  it.  That's  what  I'm  trying  to  tell  you. 
Don't  think  for  a  moment,  my  dear,  that  I  am  only 
quoting  you.  I'm  talking  of  a  condition  that  exists 
all  over  the  world.  There  should  be  a  law  against 


162  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

it!"  He  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  emphati- 
cally. "A  law,  preventing  married  women  with  hus- 
bands well  able  to  take  care  for  them  from  depriving 
Less  fortunate  women  of  a  livelihood!" 

"You — you  almost  frighten  me,  Norman;  you're* 
so  radical." 

"Yes;  I'm  afraid  I  am,"  he  smiled,  as  he  noticed 
her  nervousness.  "You  see,  as  a  physician,  I  see 
so  much  of  humanity.  I  am  thrown  in  contact  with 
every  phase  of  life.  The  two  days  a  week  given 
to  charity  gives  me  an  insight  into  the  suffering  and 
want  of  the  world,  of  which  you  can  possibly  have 
no  idea." 

"After  all  this "  She  broke  into  a  little: 

laugh,  and  there  was  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  her 
eye.  "I  don't  suppose  you  would  ever  consent  to 
your  wife  working — would  you?" 

"Hardly!"  He  returned  her  laugh.  "Mrs. 
Norman  Rogers  will  find  her  time  fully  occupied  in; 
being  just  a  wife!" 

Almost  in  silence  they  finished  their  dinner.  Irt 
her  mind,  Norah  was  carefully  weighing  the 
things  Norman  had  told  her.  She  could  not  help 
but  feel  that  he  was  right  in  many  particulars,  but 
at  the  same  time  he  went  a  little  too  far.  In  the; 
first  place,  there  were  exceptions  to  all  cases.  Per- 
haps he  was  justified  in  feeling  as  he  did  about  most 
women,  but  her  case  was  different.  She  had  earned 
her  living  since  she  was  twelve  years  old.  This 
feeling  of  glorious  Independence  had  become  part  of 
her,  and  he  was  unreasonable  in  expecting  her  to  give 
up  without  a  struggle  the  sentiments  she  had  cher- 
ished for  years.  ' 

They  returned  to  the  apartment  about  nine  o'clock 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  163 

and  found  Mrs.  Grant  in  bed  suffering  from  an 
almost  unbearable  pain  in  her  head  and  back. 

"When  did  you  first  notice  this?"  Norman  asked, 
soberly,  as  he  felt  her  pulse. 

"I  had  a  slight  headache  all  day,  but  I  didn't  feel 
badly  enough  to  lie  down  until  about  an  hour  after 
Norah  had  gone  to  meet  you." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  had  a  headache, 
mama?  You  know  I  wouldn't  have  left  you." 

"It  wasn't  serious  enough  to  mention,  dear.  It's 
only  the  last  two  hours  that  I — I'm  suffering,"  she 
said,  through  tightly  compressed  lips. 

The  next  day  she  was  worse,  and  by  evening  Dr. 
Rogers  had  installed  a  n^rse. 

"I  want  her  to  have  some  special  serum  injec- 
tions," he  explained  to  Norah,  "and  it  takes  an  ex- 
perienced and  capable  nurse  to  give  them  according 
to  my  directions." 

Norah  went  to  the  office  each  morning,  but  only 
remained  a  couple  of  hours.  Mr.  Thorne  was  most 
considerate  and  insisted  upon  her  leaving  just  as  soon 
as  she  looked  through  his  correspondence  and  gave 
a  few  necessary  orders  for  the  day. 

One  morning  she  had  been  gone  about  fifteen 
minutes  when  Dr.  Rogers  arrived.  He  was  a  little 
earlier  than  usual,  as  he  was  due  at  the  hospital  that 
morning  for  an  important  consultation. 

"Well,  how  is  my  patient  this  morning?"  he 
asked  cheerfully,  as  he  drew  his  chair  up  beside  the 
bed. 

"She  had  a  restless  night,  doctor,"  the  nurse  in- 
formed him,  "but  she  fell  into  a  nice  sleep  about 
five  this  morning." 

"Miss  Burke,  would  you  go  into  the  next  room 


164  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

for  a  few  minutes?"  Mrs.  Grant  smiled  feebly  as 
she  made  the  request.  "I  want  to  have  a  little  talk 
with  the  doctor  alone." 

As  the  nurse  smiled  and  retired,  Dr.  Rogers  bent 
"over  his  patient. 

"And  now  what  can  I  do  for  you,  Mrs.  Grant?" 
he  asked,  solicitously.  Gently  he  stroked  the  white; 
hand  that  toyed  with  the  spread. 

"Norman!"  With  a  quick,  unexpected  motion, 
she  caught  hold  of  his  arms,  and  her  eyes  searched 
his  own  for  hidden  thoughts.  For  a  long  time  she 
had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  calling  him  "Norman" 
when  they  were  alone.  "I  want  you,  please,  to  tell 
me  the  truth!  Am  I  going  to  die?" 

"Why,  my  dear!  What  makes  you  ask  that? 
Surely,  you're  not  getting  discouraged  because  you've 
been  in  bed  a  week?" 

"It  isn't  that," — as  her  head  shook  slowly,  "it's 
just  because  I  feel  it!  Something  tells  me  I'm  not 
going  to  get  well.  Norman,  you're  as  dear  to  me 
as  a  son.  I  have  every  confidence  in  the  world  in 
you,  and  it  would  be  very  wrong  for  you  to  deceive 


me." 


"I  wish  with  all  my  heart  that  I  were  your  son, 
clear,"  he  whispered  softly,  as  he  raised  her  hand  to 
his  lips. 

"You^re  all  that  is  gentle,  kind  and  good,  Norman, 
and  I  know  you  would  give  anything  to  spare  me, 
— but  you  must  tell  me  the  truth.  Please  donft  try 
to  evade  answering, — it  means  so  much  to  me." 

He  could  not  help  the  moment's  hesitation.  It 
was  so  difficult  to  tell  her,  and  yet  he  knew  the  use- 
lessness  of  trying  to  keep  it  from  her. 

"There  is  always  a  chance  for  recovery "  He 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  165 

could  not  prevent  his  eyes  from  filling  as  he  sparred 
for  time.  His  head  turned  away  from  those  truth- 
searching  eyes.  "You  know,  my  dear,  where  there 
is  life,  there  is  always  hope." 

"Norman,  I  am  nearing  the  end.  Somehow,  I 
seem  to  have  known  it  from  the  first,  and  if  my  time 
has  come,  I'm  ready.  If  only  my  mind  were  at  rest 
about  Norah." 

"Norah!     Why ?" 

"Yes,  dear;  if  Norah  were  only  married  to  you, 
I  could  die  happy!" 


\ 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FOR  moments  after  Mrs.  Grant  had  voiced  that 
request  that  was  dearer  to  her  than  anything 
left  in  life,  Dr.  Norman  Rogers  did  not  speak. 
Used  as  he  was  to  the  sight  of  suffering,  of  death, 
itself,  this — this  was  so  different.  He  could  not  con- 
sider it  with  the  impartiality  of  the  professional  man. 
Even  had  he  spoken,  though,  it  could  have  been 
but  chokingly,  for  the  lump  that  rose  in  his  throat 
wrould  prevent  free  speech.  All  the  power  of  his 
will  was  put  forth  to  conquer  it,  to  regain  his  com- 
posure. 

Never  in  his  life  was  the  man  to  forget  that 
scene, — never  to  remember  it  but  with  mentally  un- 
covered head  as  though  in  the  presence  of  something 
sacred.  Reverently  he  brought  his  gaze  back  to  the 
little  white-faced  woman  lying  there  before  him, 
herself  so  calm  and  resigned,  with  eyes  gazing  out  and 
beyond  him  as  though  already  seeing  into  the  Great 
Beyond,  as  she  whispered  her  great  faith  and  trust 
in  him,  telling  him  how  peacefully  she  might  meet 
whatever  came  if  only  she  could  leave  her  heart's 
greatest  treasure  in  his  keeping. 

"Dear,"  he  spoke  at  last,  forcing  back  the  great 
sob  that  rose  in  spite  of  all  effort  to  suppress  it, 
"you  know  how  I  love  Norah.  I  would  give  my 
life  to  make  her  happy!  Perhaps  you,  her  mother, 
can  fully  realize  how  great  my  love,  my  devotion 
would  be  if  she  would  only  marry  me." 

"I  feel  sure  that  God  will  answer  my  prayers." 

166 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  167 

The  simple  faith  she  displayed,  filled  him  with  en- 
couragement. 

Norah  came  in  at  noon  with  an  armful  of  beauti- 
ful roses. 

"Mr.  Thorne  sent  them  to  you,  dear,  from 
his  garden.  He'll  be  in  to  see  you  in  a  few  days," 
she  told  her  mother,  as  she  arranged  the  gift  in  a 
tall  vase  and  placed  it  where  the  invalid  might  get 
the  full  benefit. 

"How  lovely!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Grant.  "Every- 
body is  so  kind."  She  paused  for  a  moment,  then 
went  on  hesitantly.  "After  you've  had  your  lunch, 
Norah,  I'd  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you." 

"Yes,  mama.  Would  you  rather  talk  with  me 
now?  My  lunch  can  wait." 

"No,  dear, — have  your  lunch  first;  it  will  do 
later." 

"Now,  mama,  is  there  something  you'd  like  to 
have?"  Norah  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed  after  lunch,  and  held  her  mother's  hand 
affectionately. 

"I  don't  know  of  a  thing  you  could  possibly  bring 
me."  The  mother's  glance  strayed  about  the  room, 
and  the  sigh  she  gave  was  a  happy  one.  "You  have 
sent  home  every  possible  thing  that  might  add  to  my 
comfort." 

"It's  such  a  joy  to  be  able  to  do  anything  for 
you,  dearest.  What  did  Norman  have  to  say  to- 
day? Will  he  have  you  up  soon?" 

"I  will  never  get  up,  Norah!"  With  all  gentle- 
ness the  mother  spoke  the  words  she  knew  would 
rend  the  heart  of  the  daughter,  but  which,  never- 
theless, must  be  said,  and  which,  she  realized,  too, 
were  best  said  by  herself. 


168  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Norah's  hold  tightened  on  the  two  waxen  hands 
she  held,  as  though  by  the  sheer  strength  of  her 
own  will  she  would  hold  on  to  what  was  so  dear  to 
her. 

"I'll  not  have  you  talking  like  that,  mama,"  she 
exclaimed,  her  voice  high  pitched.  "I'm  sure 
Norman  will  object  to  it,  also.  You'll  soon  be  as 
well  and  strong  as  ever!" 

"Norah,  dear,  listen  to  me,  please!  I  had  a  long 
talk  with  Norman  this  morning.  He  as  much  as 
verified  what  I  am  telling  you.  Now,  please !  You 
must  be  sensible  about  this, — and  if  you  keep  on 
crying,  dear,  why,  I  can't  tell  you  about  it." 

"Oh,  mama  !  Mama  !  Surely  there  is  some  mis- 
take!" Norah  cried  frantically.  "You  are  getting 
better  every  day !  When  I  ask  Miss  Burke,  she  tells 
me  you're  improving." 

"She  doesn't  know,  dear.  It  is  something  that  I 
felt  myself,  and  Norman  couldn't  deny  it  when  I 
asked  him." 

"But  I  won't  give  you  up,  mama!  I  won't!  I 
won't!  We'll  call  in  another  doctor — maybe 
Norman  doesn't  understand!  We'll  get  someone  in 
consultation,  and  then " 

"Try  to  understand,  my  child,"  Mrs.  Grant  in- 
terrupted. "There  isn't  any  doctor  who  can  help 
me." 

"Oh,  darling,  darling!"  Norah  threw  her  arms 
about  her  mother's  neck.  "You  can't  leave  me  all 

alone!      I — I — need    you    so,    mama,    mama,    I — 
j '» 

"There,  there,  dear, — please!"  The  mother 
petted  and  soothed  until  the  outburst  of  grief  had 
passed.  "This  is  something  that  comes  to  every  one 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  169 

of  us;  only  they  don't  all  feel  it  and  know  it  before- 
hand as  I  have.  Death  hasn't  any  terrors  for  me, 
dear;  I  stand  ready  to  face  my  Maker  whenever  I 
am  called.  It's  only  you — you " 

"Oh,  mama, — if  only " 

"The  thought  of  leaving  you  alone  is  the  one 
thing  I  cannot  bear.  If — if  only  you  would  make 
me  very,  very  happy — oh,  darling,  if  you'll  only 
grant  this  last  request  of  mine!"  Hardly  taking 
time  to  breathe  in  her  great  anxiety,  she  hurried  on, 
the  words  tumbling  over  each  other. 

"Mama!  mama!  There  isn't  anything  in  the 
world  I  wouldn't  do  for  you!"  Norah's  sobs  did  not 
abate.  "Anything!  Anything!" 

"Then,  dear,"  came  the  whisper,  "make  me 
happy, — let  me  go  to  your  father  in  perfect  peace 
and  contentment.  Promise  me  that  you  will  marry 
Norman  Rogers!" 

Norah  could  almost  hear  the  mad  thumping  of 
her  own  heart.  It  took  a  few  moments  for  her  to 
realize  what  it  was  her  mother  was  asking,  almost 
demanding  of  her.  She  knew  it  meant  her  complete 
surrender;  the  throwing  down  of  the  gauntlet;  the 
acknowledgment  of  her  inability  to  stand  by  the 
courage  of  her  convictions.  But  she  answered 
quietly:  "Very  well,  mama,  dear.  I  promise." 

Mrs.  Grant  caught  Norah  in  her  arms  and  kissed 
her.  "My  darling!  My  darling!  You  have  made 
me  too  happy  for  words!  May  God  bless  you!" 

All  through  the  long,  dragging  hours  of  the 
afternoon,  Norah  went  about  her  duties  in  a  trance. 
In  her  nature  were  many  sterling  qualities,  but 
hidden  among  them  was  an  inherent  strain  of 
stubbornness  that  was  bound  to  crop  up  ever  so  often. 


170  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Now  it  was  insistently  repeating:  "You  gave  id 
after  all !  You  gave  in  after  all !" 

But  above  this,  striving  to  come  to  her  rescue, 
there  flashed  before  her  the  great  knowledge  and 
supreme  satisfaction  of  two  things:  She  had  granted 
her  adored  mother's  request,  and  if  she  had  finally 
consented  to  marry,  at  least  she  would  marry  the 
one  and  only  man  she  had  ever  loved ! 

When  Norman  called  at  five-thirty,  Norah  met 
him  at  the  door  and  led  the  way  into  the  living 
room. 

"Mama  is  asleep,"  she  said,  "so  come  in  here. 
I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

"You  look  tired,  Norah,"  he  told  her,  as  he  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  room,  "and  your  eyes  are  swollen. 
Have  you  been  crying,  dear?" 

"Norman, — mama  told  me  everything  this  after- 
noon— about  herself — that  she  is — not — going  to 
get  well !"  Bravely  she  sought  to  choke  back  the 
sobs,  but  her  voice  held  a  pitiful  break  as  she  asked 
the  question,  the  answer  to  which  she  already  knew 
in  her  inmost  consciousness,  but  there  was,  too,  a 
wistful  eagerness,  half  hopeful,  that  the  miracle 
might  happen, — that  she  might  be  reassured. 

"It's  true,  Norah,  my  poor  little  girl."  The 
tenderness  in  the  doctor's  voice  sought  to  ease  the 
pain  of  the  verdict.  "I'm  so  sorry,  dear, — so  sorry, 
— but,"  and  his  head  shook  sadly,  "but  I'm  power- 
less to  help  her." 

She  never  stopped  to  reason  how  it  happened, — 
it  somehow  just  did,  but  the  next  moment  she  was 
in  his  arms,  her  head  pillowed  on  his  broad  chest. 
He  let  her  have  her  full  cry;  only  too  well  he  knew 
the  value  of  the  healing  of  tears. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  171 

"Did  you  know  this  from  the  start?"  she  asked 
suddenly,  raising  her  head,  and  taking  as  a  matter 
of  course  his  movement  to  dry  her  eyes. 

"No — not  until  a  few  days  ago,"  he  answered, 
"but  she  sensed  it  from  the  start,  with  one  of  those 
peculiar  presentiments  with  which  I  am  probably 
more  familiar  than  you,  dear.  They  are  by  no 
means  unusual." 

It  was  a  time  for  startling,  abrupt  happenings. 
But  this  time  the  surprise  was  Norman's.  For 
Norah  Grant's  mind,  once  firmly  made  up,  was  not 
the  type  of  mind  to  hesitate  in  carrying  out  what 
she  had  determined  to  do.  While  the  man's  em- 
bracing arms  were  still  about  her  in  their  soothing 
she  drew  away  from  him.  He  did  not  attempt  to 
detain  her,  nor  did  she  even  glance  at  him  as  she 
walked  to  the  window  and  stood  there,  straight  and 
calm  as  the  steeple  on  the  church  at  which  she  gazed 
with  unseeing  eyes.  As  abruptly,  she  turned  to  face 
him. 

"Norman,"  she  asked,  and  there  was  a  peculiar 
intonation  that  had  never  before  been  in  her  liquid 
voice,  "do — do  you  still  love  me?" 

"Love  you!  Why,  darling,  I  adore  you!  I'll 
love  you  as  long  as  I  have  breath  in  my  body!" 

She  made  a  quick  gesture  with  outflung  palms. 

"Well,  then — if — if  you  still  want  to  marry  me, 
I— I'm  willing." 

In  two  gigantic  strides  he  reached  her  to  catch' 
her  to  him  and  hold  her  tightly  in  his  arms. 

"Dearest,"  he  murmured,  the  tremble  of  deeply 
felt  emotion  in  the  words,  "you've  made  me  the 
happiest  man  in  the  world!"  Again  and  again  he 
kissed  her  as  she  lay  passive  in  his  arms.  But  as 


172  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

suddenly  he  released  her,  to  hold  her  at  arms'  length 
as  his  eyes  sought  to  search  her  soul. 

"Are  you  marrying  me  to  please  your  mother," 
he  queried  suspiciously,  "or,"  and  the  tones  turned 
to  pleading,  "do  you  love  me — just  a  little?" 

Norah's  answer  came  unhesitatingly,  candidly. 

"I  love  you  very  much,"  she  said,  with  the  sim- 
plicity of  conviction,  "but  it  would  not  be  entirely 
fair  to  tell  you  that  my  mother's  wishes  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  my  decision." 

To  some  this  might  have  seemed  half-hearted. 
To  Dr.  Norman  Rogers,  knowing  Norah  Grant  as 
he  did,  knowing  her  too,  with  the  knowledge  that 
love  brings,  it  held  the  world  full  of  meaning. 

"Darling!"  he  murmured  once  more,  but  that  one 
word  spoke  volumes,  just  as  did  the  two  fervent 
arms  which  too,  once  more,  went  out  to  clasp  her  to 
him. 

Awakening  from  her  nap,  refreshed  and  rested, 
a  little  later,  Mrs.  Grant  called  for  Norah.  When 
she  went  into  the  mother's  room,  Norman  went  with 
her.  Together  they  went  over  to  the  bed  to  kneel 
beside  it.  Norah  caught  hold  of  one  of  the  thin 
white  hands  to  stroke  it.  "Feeling  a  little  easier, 
mama,  dear?"  she  queried. 

"Much  better,"  Mrs.  Grant  smiled.  "That  nap 
did  me  a  lot  of  good." 

"Mama."  Norah  reached  for  Norman's  hand. 
"I  have  promised  Norman  to  marry  him,  whenever 
he  wishes." 

"My  dear  children!  I  can't  find  words  in  which 
to  tell  you  how  happy  I  am!"  choked  the  sick 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  173 

woman,  a  glory  of  mother-feeling  suffusing  her  as 
she  bent  over  to  kiss  them  both. 

In  the  next  few  days,  there  was  a  decided  im- 
provement in  the  invalid's  condition,  the  thought  of 
Norah's  betrothal  acting  as  an  elixir.  Then,  without 
warning,  she  relapsed  into  a  state  of  inertia. 

"Norah,"  she  roused  herself  sufficiently  to  say  in 
a  greatly  weakened  voice  one  evening,  "I  should 
like  very  much,  dear,  to  be  present, — at  your 
wedding." 

"Why,  you  will  be,  dear!"  Norah  answered, 
bravely  forcing  back  the  tears.  "Just  as  soon  as 
you're  well  again." 

"Have  you  and  Norman  any  plans?" 

"No,  dear, — not  yet." 

"Well,  then,"  a  faint  glow  of  excitement  crept 
into  the  faded  cheeks,  "why  don't  you  arrange  for 
a  little  wedding  right  here  in  this  room?  Don't  you 
remember,  dear,  when  Susy  was  married,  how  I  said 
I  hoped  to  see  you  married,  too?  And  dear,  please 
let  it  be  soon!" 

They  talked  it  over  that  night,  after  Mrs.  Grant 
had  fallen  asleep.  There  could  only  be  one  con- 
clusion. To  please  the  mother  was  a  paramount 
consideration. 

"We  can  arrange  for  a  little  ceremony  here  on 
Sunday,"  Norman  said  quickly.  "This  is  Thursday, 
— and  we  won't  have  many  preparations  to  make. 
I'll  only  have  Frances  in,  and  I  don't  suppose  you'll 
want  anyone,  dearest,  besides  Susan  and  Jack?" 

"I'd  love  to  have  Jimmie  come  up  from  Los 
Angeles.  I  wrote  him  all  about  mama's  condition, 
and  he  wired  he  would  come  whenever  I  wanted 
him.  I  thought  I  would  wait  until — until " 


174  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"I  know,  dear;  but  that  may  not  be  for  some 
little  time  and  don't  you  think  your  brother  would 
like  to  see  your  mother?  He  might  like  to  bring  his 
wife." 

"You're  thoughtful,  Norman.  I  think,  too,  that 
mama  would  like  to  see  Doris, — she  only  knows  her 
through  her  letters.  I'll  wire  Jimmie  to-night." 

At  eleven-thirty  on  Sunday  morning,  Norah 
Evelyn  Grant  became  the  wife  of  Norman  Rogers. 
At  her  mother's  bedside,  the  ceremony  was  per- 
formed with  quiet  dignity.  They  knelt  and  received 
the  blessing.  Above  them  a  ray  of  sunshine  streamed 
through  the  window,  circling  about  the  mother's 
head,  as  she  sat  in  bed,  bolstered  by  pillows,  long 
enough  to  see  her  prayer  fulfilled,  and  her  beloved 
daughter  given  into  the  safe  keeping  of  a  man  of 
worth. 

Jimmie  had  arrived  early  that  morning  from  Los 
Angeles  in  answer  to  Norah's  wire. 

It  was  a  sad  home-coming  for  Jimmie.  He 
hadn't  seen  his  family  since  his  marriage,  and  know- 
ing the  seriousness  of  his  mother's  illness,  he  was 
heavy-hearted  when  he  entered  the  house.  Doris 
did  not  come  with  him,  for  she  was  engaged  in  doing 
a  picture  and  could  not  get  away.  He  could  only 
remain  until  Monday  evening,  as  he  had  to  be 
at  work  Tuesday  morning. 

He  had  changed  greatly  in  the  years  he  had  been 
away;  he  was  taller,  much  heavier;  but  the  thing 
that  Norah  could  not  escape  noticing  with  disap- 
proval,— there  was  an  air  of  dissipation  on  what 
should  have  been  his  still  boyish  countenance.  Then, 
too,  from  a  happy  optimistic  boy,  he  had  developed 
into  a  cynical  pessimist.  Everyone  secretly  acknowl- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  175 

edged  the  change  before  he  had  been  home  an 
hour, — that  is,  everyone  save  his  mother.  To  her 
he  was  still  just  her  boy, — her  baby ! 

But  they  found  it  necessary  to  caution  him  about 
saying  he  had  run  up  only  on  account  of  Norah's 
wedding. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon  that  Norah 
found  herself  alone  with  her  brother.  Mrs.  Grant 
was  resting  after  all  the  excitement  of  the  morning; 
Norman  had  gone  to  pay  some  visits  to  the  hospital; 
Frances  had  returned  to  Burlingame,  and  Susan  and 
Jack  were  out  for  a  walk. 

"Well,  Jimmie,  this  is  the  first  chance  I've  had  for 
a  real  talk  with  you  since  you  got  here,"  Norah 
said,  as  she  pulled  her  chair  up  close  to  his  in  the 
living  room. 

"There  surely  has  been  a  lot  of  excitement  around 
here  all  day,"  he  answered,  stretching  comfortably 
in  his  chair.  "Don't  you  think  it  has  been  too  much 
for  mama?" 

"Norman  says  that  excitement  such  as  this  will 
never  harm  her;  she's  had  a  very  happy  day  of 
it." 

"She  looks  dreadfully  bad,  Norah!  I  was 
shocked  to  see  her.  I'm  sorry  Doris  couldn't  come 
with  me, — I  don't  suppose  mama  will — ever — see 
her." 

"I'm  sorry,  too,  Jimmie.  We  should  all  like  to 
meet  your  wife." 

"Well,  she's  doing  a  bit  in  a  picture,  and  they're 
working  on  it  every  day, — even  to-day.  Sunday 
doesn't  make  any  difference  when  they're  rushing 
to  get  through  a  picture." 

"I've  looked  for  mention  of  Doris  in  the  picture 


176  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

news  of  the  daily  papers  often,  Jimmie,  and  also  in 
the  different  movie  magazines.  Susy  buys  them  all 
and  brings  them  over  to  mama." 

"And  you  haven't  found  her  name,  have  you?" 
There  was  a  cynical  smile  on  his  face  that  Norah 
disliked  seeing  there.  "It's  all  pull  and  influence  in 
this  game.  Why,  there  are  any  number  of  women 
playing  leads  who  can't  compare  with  Doris  in  looks 
and  cleverness,  and  yet  she's  lucky  to  get  a  bit  once 
in  a  while." 

"What  about  ability?  I  should  think  that  would 
win  out  in  spite  of  everything." 

"Nothing  doing!  It's  all  pull,  I  tell  you!  You 
don't  know  the  world  like  I  do,  Norah."  His  voice 
was  bitter. 

"I  think  I  know  it  pretty  well,  Jimmie;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  men  or  women  who  have  it  in 
them  to  succeed  usually  do.  How  about  you  and 
your  work?" 

"Oh,  I'm  doing  fine."  Jimmie's  shoulders 
shrugged.  "As  fine  as  anyone  can  ever  do  in  my 
kind  of  a  job.  Getting  the  maximum  wages  of  an 
electrician,  and  making  a  good  deal  working  over- 


time." 


"Now,  don't  you  see  I'm  right?  You  had  the 
ability,  and  you've  succeeded." 

"But  what  kind  of  a  success  do  you  call  it?  I'll 
never  be  rich  or  go  much  beyond  where  I  am  now,  un- 
less something  unforeseen  happens." 

"Do  you  love  Doris,  Jimmie?"  she  asked  hint 
earnestly.  "Are  you  happy,  dear?" 

"Of  course  I  love  Doris  and  am  happy!  We're 
as  happy  as  any  other  couple,  and  we're  always 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  177 

having  a  good  time, — parties,  dances;  something 
doing  every  night." 

"Have  you  a  home?" 

"Yes,  we  have  one  of  the  prettiest  Queen  Anne 
shingled  cottages  you  ever  saw.  We're  not  in  it 
much,"  he  smiled,  "but  the  little  time  we  are  we 
surely  enjoy  it." 

"Doesn't  Doris  ever  feel  like  giving  up  her  work 
and  staying  at  home?" 

"Give  up  her  career?  Why,  Norah,  she  wouldn't 
think  of  such  a  thing !  She's  exactly  like  you, — wants 
to  be  independent  and  all  that.  How  about  you? 
Still  going  to  keep  up  your  position  with  Mr. 
Thome?" 

"Indeed  not!"  She  shook  her  head  a  little 
sadly.  "Much  as  I  should  love  to,  Norman  wouldn't 
agree  to  anything  of  the  sort.  He's  been  very  kind, 
though,  and  has  consented  to  my  going  down  for  a 
few  hours  every  day  until  Mr.  Thorne  has  someone 
to  take  my  place.  Were  you  surprised  to  hear  about 
Norman,  Jimmie?" 

"Not  about  Norman,  no.  You  see  mother  and 
Susy  have  been  writing  me  about  him  for  months. 
But  I  was  surprised  to  receive  your  telegram  telling 
me  you  were  marrying  in  such  a  hurry.  Why,  only 
in  mother's  last  letter  to  me,  she  told  me  she  didn't 
think  you  would  ever  marry.  How  did  you  come 
to  change  your  mind?" 

"To — please  mama.  You  see,  it  was  her — last 
— request.  She  said,  and  I — I " 

"Please,  Norah,  don't  cry!  I  understand  what 
you  mean,  and  it  was  bully  of  you  to  make  her 
happy.  Do  you  think  you'll  get  along  with  him?" 


178  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Get  along  with  him?    Why,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  marrying  someone  just  to  please  someone 
else  isn't  always  the  pleasantest  thing  in  the  world 
to  do " 

"Oh,  but  Jimmie!  I  do  love  Norman!  Please 
remember  that  not  even  to  please  mama, — at  least 
I  don't  think  so, — could  I  have  married  a  man  I 
didn't  care  for." 

"That's  different.  Then  you've  nothing  to  worry 
about,  unless  it's  sitting  around  idle  all  day.  It  will 
be  a  new  experience  for  you,  Norah.  Seems  to  me 
I  can't  remember  the  time  when  you  didn't  work." 

"It  will  seem  strange,  won't  it?  I'll  have  a  chance 
to  keep  busy,  though,  taking  care  of  Norman  and 
his  home.  At  all  events  I'm  going  to  stay  here  with 
mama  for  a  while,  and — if  she  is  only  spared  to  us 
— we  will  take  her  down  the  peninsula  to  Norman's 
home.  Oh,  you  should  see  it,  Jimmie!  It  is  so 
lovely!"  There  was  real  pride  in  her  tone,  but  in 
the  saying  of  the  words,  it  came  faintly  to  Norah 
Rogers  that  she  was  talking  about  her  own  home. 
She  hadn't  seemed  just  to  sense  it  before. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MATTERS  went  along  so  in  their  usual 
smooth  course  that,  in  the  next  few  weeks, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  narrow  platinum 
band  on  her  finger  and  Miss  Burke' s  calling  her 
"Mrs.  Rogers,'  Norah  would  hardly  have  realized 
herself  married.  Each  day  she  went  down  to  the 
office  for  a  short  period.  Mr.  Thorne  had  engaged 
a  highly  recommended  young  woman  to  take  her 
place,  and  she  was  most  ^lad  to  show  her  what  to 
do. 

Norman  came  twice  a  day  as  usual,  but  telephoned 
to  her  at  least  half  a  dozen  times  in  between.  He 
showered  her  with  attentions,  candy,  fruit,  flowers, 
books,  everything  of  which  he  could  think  that  she 
might  like. 

At  the  end  of  ten  'days  Miss  Tyler  fairly  well 
understood  her  duties  and  Mr.  Thorne  told  Norah 
it  would  not  be  necessary  for  her  to  come  down  any 
longer.  In  bidding  her  good-by  he  told  her :  "Mrs. 
Rogers,  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  hate  to  have  you 
leave,  though  I  may  be  selfish  in  saying  it  when  I  am 
certain  you  are  going  to  be  very  happy.  I  know 
Dr.  Rogers  by  reputation,  and  there  is  no  reason  to 
believe  you  will  ever  have  cause  to  regret  the  step 
you  "have  taken." 

"I  feel  sure  I  will  be — very  happy — Mr. 
Thorne." 

"At  the  same  time,  Mrs.  Rogers,  I  never  knew  a 

179 


180  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

woman  as  intensely  interested  in  business  as  you, — • 
and  I  can  unhesitatingly  say  that  you  had  a  most 
remarkable  future  before  you." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Thorne." 

"I  want  you  to  know  that  no  matter  how  many 
people  I  have  in  my  office,  there  will  always  be  room 
for  you,  in  case  you  ever  wish  to  return." 

"You  are  more  than  kind,  and  I  sincerely  appreci- 
ate it,"  she  thanked,  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

Then  next  day  an  exquisite  piece  of  statuary  was 
delivered  at  the  apartment  for  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Norman  Rogers,  with  the  sincere  wishes  of  Mr. 
Daniel  Thorne. 

In  spite  of  the  many  little  things  with  which 
Norah  busied  herself  about  the  house,  she  missed 
the  office  constantly  for  the  first  few  days.  There 
was  so  little  she  could  do  for  her  mother,  outside  of 
remaining  near  her,  as  Norman  had  insisted  on  send- 
ing in  a  night  nurse,  as  well  as  Miss  Burke. 

"But,  Norman,"  Norah  had  protested,  "why 
can't  I  relieve  Miss  Burke  of  most  of  her  duties 
during  the  day,  and  then  she  will  be  rested  for  her 
night  vigil?" 

"Because,  darling,  you're  not  any  too  strong 
yourself."  He  kissed  her  and  held  her  off  at  arms' 
length  in  that  caressing  little  manner  he  had  assumed 
from  the  start  of  his  precipitate  wooing.  "You 
must  remember  that  you  have  worked  hard  all  your 
life,  and  your  vitality  is  rather  low.  Besides,  dear, 
you've  been  under  a  terrific  strain  these  last  few 
weeks." 

"Why,  Norman,"  she  laughed.  "I'm  perfectly 
strong!  You'll  be  making  a  regular  baby  of  me!" 

"That's   exactly  what   I   intend  doing,"   he  said 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  181 

tenderly.  "When  I  have  you  entirely  to  myself,  it 
will  not  be  long  before  you'll  be  in  such  splendid 
condition  you'll  hardly  know  yourself." 

Susan  came  over  from  Piedmont  every  day  for  a 
few  hours,  for  now  that  she  realized  how  really  ill 
her  mother  was,  she  didn't  intend  to  have  anyone  say 
she  was  lacking  in  daughterly  love  and  devotion. 
She  was  always  full  of  news  and  harmless  gossip, 
and  for  a  woman  who  did  absolutely  nothing  worth- 
while, Susan  was  the  busiest  woman  in  the  world. 
Norah  loved  to  have  her  come,  and  rather  enjoyed 
listening  to  her  constant  chatter.  Frances,  too, 
managed  to  come  in  about  three  times  a  week,  so 
that  Norah  could  hardlyMiave  said  she  was  lonely. 
It  was  only  the  constant  desire  for  something  to  do 
that  was  urging  a  restlessness  that  was  something 
quite  new  in  her  hitherto  busy  life. 

Norman  came  in  one  day  when  they  had  been 
married  almost  a  month  and  placed  a  handsome 
velvet  box  from  Shreve's  in  her  hands.  Opening  it, 
she  gave  a  little  gasp  of  astonishment  as  the  beauti- 
ful brooch,  two  exquisitely  set  rings  and  a  mag- 
nificent bracelet,  caught  her  eye. 

"How  perfectly  gorgeous!"  she  cried.  "Surely 
— they  are  not  for  me?" 

"Who  else  do  you  think  they  would  be  for, 
'dear?" 

"But  all  these  beautiful  things,  Norman!  I  don't 
understand  it." 

"They  were  my  mother's  jewels,"  he  said,  softly, 
"and  I've  had  them  reset  for  you." 

"Your  mother's!"  Her  tone  was  tender,  as  she 
gently  touched  the  stones  that  blazed  and  smiled  un- 
derstandingly  at  her. 


182  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Frances  has  kept  them  in  the  safe  deposit  all 
these  years,"  went  on  Norman,  "planning  that  some 
day  I  should  give  them  to  my  wife." 

"Why  did  you  have  them  reset,  Norman?  I 
should  have  loved  them  just  as  they  were." 

"Why,  dearest,  they  were  jewels  my  father  had 
given  my  mother  when  they  were  first  married.  You 
can  imagine  how  old-fashioned  they  were.  You 
could  never  have  worn  them." 

"Worn  them?  Why,  surely,  you  don't  expect  me 
to  wear  them?"  Norah  seemed  so  genuinely  fright- 
ened at  the  prospect  that  Norman  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh. 

"Most  assuredly  you're  to  wear  them.  What  did 
you  expect  to  do  with  them?" 

"Why,  keep  them — and  cherish  them  because  they 
were  your  mother's.  But  I  can't  imagine  wearing 
them.  I've  never  had  a  piece  of  jewelry  in  my  life, 
other  than  a  plain  little  watch  mama  gave  me  one 
Christmas." 

"Well,  things  are  different  now,  dear,"  he  laughed 
again.  "Do  you  like  the  settings?" 

"Oh,  yes !"     She  was  still  bewildered. 

"I'm  glad,"  he  answered,  proudly.  "Frances 
selected  them." 

She  closed  the  box  slowly  and  placed  it  on  the 
table.  Somehow  some  of  the  sparkle  seemed  to  have 
departed  from  the  jewels. 

What  a  petty  thing  she  had  been! 

The  significance  of  her  own  resentful  thoughts  did 
not  come  to  Norah  Rogers  in  its  entirety  until  she 
had  retired  for  the  night.  For  so  long  it  had  been 
a  habit  of  the  self-reliant  girl  to  commune  with  her- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  183 

self,  to  face  her  problems  in  the  darkness  of 
night.  Somehow,  under  the  cover  of  darkness, 
she  seemed  to  be  so  detached, — with  her  body  re- 
laxed for  sleep, — that  the  truth  of  matters  sifted  to 
her  more  clearly  than  when  thought  of  even  with 
the  concentration  she  was  accustomed  to  give  to 
everything. 

Now  it  came  to  her  clearly  how  small  had  been 
the  thought  in  being  resentful  over  nothing  save  the 
kindly  action  of  another;  another  who  was  think- 
ing only  of  giving  her  pleasure.  Why  had  she  not 
considered  how  busy  a  man  was  her  doctor,  whose 
time  was  rarely  his  own?  What  more  natural  than 
that  Frances  should  attendxto  a  matter  for  him  when 
he  was  too  busy  to  do  it  himself?  She  had  never 
before  experienced  so  ugly  a  sensation  as  that  that 
had  crept  over  her  when  Norman  informed  her 
that  Frances  had  selected  the  settings,  and  not  he, 
himself.  It  could  not  have  been  jealousy, — of  that 
she  was  certain, — for  never  in  her  life  had  she  felt 
the  least  envy  of  any  living  soul.  At  all  events,  it 
should  never  occur  again.  That  much  she  promised 
herself, — and  yet, — the  very  next  afternoon  it  did 
occur  again,  and,  if  possible,  she  found  herself  even 
worse  than  on  the  day  before. 

Susan  came  over  for  the  afternoon  and  Norah 
showed  her  the  jewels.  She  was  thrown  into  an 
iecstasy. 

"Why,  Norah  Grant  Rogers!  You  lucky  girl! 
I've  never  seen  anything  so  wonderful!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "Norman  must  be  worth  millions  to  have 
given  you  these  I" 

"Nonsense,    Susy!"    Norah    laughed.      "I   don't 


184  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

know  how  much  money  Norman  has,  but  I'm  sure 
he's  not  worth  anywhere  near  one  million, — let  alone 
millions." 

"Well,  just  the  same  I  know  they  must  have  cost 
an  awful  lot!  They're  wonderful!" 

"They  were  Norman's  mother's,  and  Frances  had 
them  reset  for  me,"  Norah  explained. 

"That  was  mighty  nice  of  Frances,  I'll  say. 
Nearly  every  woman  I  know  would  have  kept  them 
for  herself.  Catch  me  giving  them  to  Jimmie's  wife, 
if  I  had  a  chance  to  keep  them  for  myself!" 

Norah  felt  the  blood  mounting  to  her  cheeks. 
Susy  was  right;  Frances  had  been  kind  and  generous, 
and  only  yesterday  she  had  entertained  an  unworthy, 
an  almost  inexplicable  feeling  against  her.  She  felt 
more  ashamed  of  herself  than  ever. 

"Why  aren't  you  wearing  them,  instead  of  keep- 
ing them  in  the  box?"  Susan  asked. 

"I  would  look  pretty,  wearing  them  in  the  house, 
dressed  as  I  am."  Norah  looked  down  at  her 
simple  little  gingham  house  dress  and  smiled. 

"Well,  if  they  belonged  to  me,  I'd  wear  them  in 
bed,"  Susan  declared,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 
"But  you  never  did  appreciate  nice  clothes  or  any- 
thing else.  You're  the  funniest  girl  I  ever  saw. 
Why,  you're  not  even  excited!" 

"What  is  there  to  be  excited  about?" 

"Well,  I  know  that  if  Jack  ever  gave  me  a  present 
like  that,  I'd  show  a  little  enthusiasm  about  it.  The 
only  jewelry  he  ever  gave  me,"  Susan  sighed,  "was 
a  string  of  near  pearls  for  twenty-five  dollars,  and 
then  he  only  paid  the  first  five  dollars  down  on  them 
and  I  had  to  finish  the  dollar  a  week  till  they  were 
paid  for  myself." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  185 

A  ring  at  the  bell  interrupted  further  conversation. 
Norah  went  to  answer  it  and  returned  in  a  moment 
with  a  large  box  in  her  hands. 

"What  is  it?"  Susan,  the  curious,  ran  forward  to 
see. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  I  didn't  buy  anything." 
Norah  was  puzzled.  "It's  addressed  to  Mrs. 
Norman  Rogers  and  is  from  Liebes'." 

Norah  had  cut  the  string  and  was  trying  to  extri- 
cate from  its  voluminous  folds  of  tissue  paper  a 
handsome  seal  coat  with  a  sable  colar. 

"Oh!  Oh!"  Susan  snatched  it  from  Norah's  hands 
and  began  examining  it.  "What  a  beauty!" 

"Susy,  please  be  quiet,— you'll  disturb  mama !" 
Norah  picked  up  a  card  and  read  aloud:  "To  my 
dear  little  wife,  with  love  from  Norman." 

"There  never  was  anything  like  it!  Do  slip  it 
on,  Norah,"  Susan  begged,  as  she  held  the  coat  for 
Norah  to  slip  into  it  and  turned  up  the  soft  fur 
collar  about  the  neck. 

"Why,  it  fits  me  perfectly!"  she  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise. "I  wonder  how  he  could  have  known  the; 
size?" 

"Most  probably  picked  out  a  girl  in  the  store  just 
your  size.  You  certainly  have  a  wonderful  husband, 
Norah." 

"There's  the  bell  again."  Norah  started  to  re- 
move the  coat. 

"I'll  go,"  Susan  offered.  When  she  returned  a 
few  minutes  later  with  Frances,  Norah  still  wore  the 
coat. 

"Did  it  just  come?"  Frances  asked  her  sister-in- 
law,  as  she  kissed  her  and  laid  on  the  table  a  large 
bundle  of  flowers  she  had  brought  for  Mrs.  Grant. 


186  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Yes, — a  few  minutes  ago."  Norah  was  sur- 
prised that  Frances  seemed  to  know  about  it. 

"Why,  they  promised  positively  to  send  it  yes- 
terday!" Frances  deplored.  "I  forgot  to  ask 
Norman  this  morning  whether  you  had  received  it!" 
Norah  was  removing  the  coat  as  hastily  as  she  could. 
"Tell  me,  Frances,"  she  demanded,  "is  this  coat 
from  you, — or  Norman?" 

"Norman,  of  course,"  Frances  laughed.  "I 
might  feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  give  you  a  lovely  pres- 
ent, Norah,  but  I  couldn't  quite  afford  that.  Norman 
told  me  he  wanted  you  to  have  a  coat  and  for  me 
to  have  one  made  to  fit  me  (we're  exactly  the  same 
size,  you  know)  and  to  send  it  to  you." 

"Didn't  he  see  it, — or  select  it?"  Norah  hoped 
she  did  not  sound  as  she  felt. 

"Why,  no,  dear.  He  left  it  entirely  to  me.  He's 
very  kind  about  always  relying  on  my  judgment. 
The  head  man  at  the  furrier's  assured  me  the  skins 
were  the  very  finest.  Do  you  like  it?"  Frances  was 
quite  anxious. 

"It's  very  nice,  thank  you."  Norah  picked  up  the 
coat  and  walked  toward  the  bedroom.  "I'll  show  it 
to  mama,  if  she's  awake." 

"Oh,  I  do  hope  she  liked  it!"  Frances  began  as 
soon  as  Norah  had  left  the  room.  "She  didn't  seem 
quite  as  pleased  as  I  had  hoped " 

"Why,  of  course  she  liked  it!"  Susan,  who 
thought  in  her  own  mind  that  Norah  must  be  crazy, 
tried  to  make  excuses  for  her.  "You  see,  you  and 
Norman  are  so  wonderful  to  her,  and  it's  all  so 
sudden,  she  can't  get  used  to  it." 

"We  want  to   do  everything  we  can  for  her,'* 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  187 

Frances  assured.      "Norman  loves  her  so, — and  I 
want  to  be  a  real  sister  to  her." 

When  Norah  found  her  mother  still  sleeping,  she 
tip-toed  to  the  closet  and  hung  up  the  coat  without 
even  looking  at  it  again.  That  ugly  sensation  that 
she  had  sworn,  only  the  night  before,  she  would 
never  give  heed  to  again,  had  managed  to  make 
itself  felt  once  more.  She  must  find  out  what  it 
meant, — she  must!  and  then  conquer  it!  That  was 
the  only  thing  to  do. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BUT  neither  Norah  nor  anyone  else  had  the 
time  or  inclination  to  work  out  problems  for 
some  time  to  come.  Norah  was  with  her 
mother  when  she  woke.  At  first,  she  was  immensely 
pleased  at  the  calm,  tranquil  expression  that  was  on 
the  invalid's  face.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  drawing 
of  muscles  from  pain  that  had  been  so  evident  for 
the  past  weeks.  Norah  believed  her  mother  must  be 
much  better. 

"Your  nap  has  done  you  a  lot  of  good,  hasn't  it, 
mama?"  she  asked,  as  she  shook  up  the  pillows  to 
make  her  mother's  head  more  comfortable. 

Mrs.  Grant  smiled,  but  it  was  that  smile,  some- 
thing in  it  of  unearthiness  that  Norah,  familiar  with 
every  emotion,  almost  every  thought  of  that  mother, 
that  told  her,  with  a  sharp  clutching  at  her  heart, 
that  pain  was  over  for  Evelyn  Grant. 

Outside  the  church  bell  had  been  ringing  the 
evening  chimes.  Through  the  stillness  that  followed, 
with  their  reverberations  still  in  the  air,  there  came 
faintly  through  the  windows  the  voices  of  the  choir 
at  rehearsal.  As  she  listened,  her  head  half  raised 
that  she  might  catch  the  words,  there  came  to 
Evelyn  Grant  a  night  long  ago  when  she  had  listened 
to  the  same  song.  Perfect  contentment  suffused  her 
being.  She  felt  that  she  had  kept  the  faith,  and  the 
reward  was  hers. 

"  Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee,  oh,  be  not  dismayed, 
For  I  am  thy  God  and  will  still  give  thee  aid.  .  *' 
188 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  189 

"Norah,"  she  said  weakly,  as  with  that  tender 
smile,  her  head  dropped  back  on  the  pillows,  "child, 
I've  tried  to  do  the  best  I  could " 

Quietly  and  peacefully,  like  a  tired  child,  Mrs. 
Grant  went  to  sleep  there  while  Norah,  her  emotion 
too  deep  for  tears,  held  her  hands  as  she  passed  out 
into  the  Beyond. 

Although  that  climax  had  been  expected  for  many 
weeks,  when  it  did  come,  it  came  with  a  suddenness 
that  stunned  them  all.  To  Norah  the  next  two 
weeks  were  like  a  horrid  dream  through  which  she 
was  passing,  and  could  not  force  herself  awake. 
The  funeral,  Jimmie's  hurried  trip  up  from  Los 
Angeles,  the  disposing  oKthe  apartment, — all  these 

things  she  sensed  but  faintly She  hardly  knew 

how  it  had  all  happened  when  she  found  herself  in 
her  husband's  home  in  Burlingame. 

That  she  hadn't  been  consulted  about  Frances 
making  her  home  with  her  and  Norman,  had  not  for 
a  moment  entered  the  young  wife's  mind.  She  took 
it  for  granted  that  her  husband's  sister  would  always 
remain  with  him,  just  as  her  own  mother  would 
always  have  remained  with  her  had  she  been  spared. 

Norman  drove  her  down  one  afternoon  about  six 
o'clock.  As  they  left  the  lights  of  the  Mission  be- 
hind them,  Norah  felt  as  if  she  were  saying  good-by 
indeed  to  the  last  friend  of  her  old  life  and  entering 
upon  a  new  one.  Frances  met  them  at  the  door  and 
opened  her  arms  to  Norah. 

"My  dear  sister,"  she  said,  "welcome  to  your  new 
home.  May  you  find  everlasting  happiness  beneath 
this  roof." 

Lights  were  burning  everywhere.  There  was  a 
bright  log  fire  in  the  grate  in  the  living  room  and 


190  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

vases  and  bowls  of  beautiful  flowers  filled  every 
nook.  Through  the  open  doorway  of  the  dining 
room  the  table  shone  spotless,  with  its  dainty  linen 
and  exquisite  cutlery. 

Norman  placed  his  arm  tenderly  about  Norah's 
waist  as  he  led  her  up  the  stairs  to  the  large  front 
room  running  almost  the  entire  length  of  the  house, 
and  opened  the  door. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  spellbound,  staring  at  the 
wonder  before  her.  The  entire  room  had  been  done 
over.  Everything — the  walls,  carpets  and  hang- 
ings— had  been  carried  out  in  a  combination  of 
orchid  and  nile  green.  The  furniture  was  of  hand- 
carved  ivory.  Not  an  item  was  missing  to  complete 
the  dainty  little  nest,  so  suited  to  a  bride. 

"Oh,  Norman!  How  lovely!"  she  finally  whis- 
pered. 

He  closed  the  door  and  gently  took  her  in  his 
arms. 

"My  own — my  darling  little  wife!" 

If  there  is  such  a  thing  as  killing  a  person  with 
kindness,  it  did  not  take  Norah  long  to  discover  that 
this  was  exactly  what  her  husband  and  Frances  were 
in  a  fair  way  to  do,  however  much  may  have  been 
their  opposite  intentions.  When  she  first  came  to 
Burlingame  she  was  suffering  from  a  nervous  strain 
and  greatly  appreciated  the  rest  and  quiet  that  was 
made  possible  for  her,  but  gradually,  as  she  began 
to  recuperate,  such  elaborate  attentions  began  to 
irritate  her.  She  had  demurred  greatly  against  hav- 
ing a  tray  sent  to  her  bed  every  morning,  but  had 
finally  given  in,  more  to  avoid  an  argument  than  any- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  191 

thing  else.  Then,  too,  it  had  been  her  full  expecta- 
tion to  take  complete  charge  of  her  husband's  home; 
to  oversee  the  servants,  attend  to  the  marketing, 
arrange  the  menus  and  everything  else  that  required 
a  wife's  superintendence,  but  she  found  that  all  of 
these  things  were  to  be  left  entirely  to  Frances. 

When  she  spoke  to  Norman  about  it,  he  laughed 
and  attempted  to  pacify  her  as  he  would  a  child  who 
had  asked  for  candy  and  could  not  have  it. 

"Frances  has  attended  to  it  all  for  over  twenty- 
five  years,"  he  said,  "and  is  so  capable  in  every  way. 
Besides,  dearest,  I  don't  want  you  to  exert  yourself 
in  the  least,  not  mentally  or  physically.  You  have 
worked  so  hard  all  your  liie,  you  simply  must  rest." 

She  could  have  screamed  aloud.  She  had  heard  it 
so  often,  from  both  Norman  and  Frances:  "You've 
worked  so  hard!" 

What  if  she  had  worked?  Was  she  the  only 
woman  in  the  world  who  had  ever  worked?  Why 
talk  about  it  all  the  time,  and  why,  oh,  why,  make 
such  a  fuss  about  it? 

Oh,  they  both  meant  it  so  kindly;  they  wanted  to 
make  life  so  easy  for  her — of  that  she  was  certain — 
but  at  the  same  time  she  felt  as  if  it  would  drive  her 
mad. 

Lavish  gifts  from  her  husband  continued  to  rain 
upon  her.  Scarcely  a  day  but  some  evidence  of  his 
love  and  thoughtfulness  came  to  her. 

Twice  a  week  Frances  went  into  the  city,  one  day 
to  attend  a  literary  club  to  which  she  belonged  and 
the  other  to  do  the  necessary  shopping  for  herself 
and  the  home.  Each  time  she  would  send  numerous 
packages  out  to  Norah.  There  would  be  beautiful 


THE  LOSING  GAIN 

silk  hose,  gloves,  handkerchiefs,  dainty  and  exquisite 
hand-made  lingerie  and,  in  fact,  all  of  the  many  req- 
uisites necessary  to  the  well-dressed  woman. 

One  day  Norah  remonstrated  with  her: 

"Frances,  I  can't  accept  all  these  beautiful  things 
from  you;  there  isn't  a  way  for  me  ever  to  recipro- 
cate and  it  embarrasses  me  greatly." 

"Why,  Norah,  these  are  not  presents  from  me." 
Frances  smiled  good-naturedly.  "They  are  things 
that  Norman  tells  me  to  buy  for  you  and  keep  you 
supplied  with." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Frances,  that  you  are 
actually  doing  my  personal  shopping  for  me?" 
Norah's  cheeks  were  scarlet. 

"Not  exactly  that,  dear."  Frances  seemed  sur- 
prised at  Norah's  attitude.  "Only  Norman  doesn't 
wish  you  to  exert  yourself  as  yet  and  shopping  is  the 
most  tiresome  thing  imaginable." 

"Exert  myself?"  Norah's  sarcastic  laugh  was 
something  so  new  that  it  surprised  even  herself,  as 
she  hurried  up  to  her  own  room. 

It  was  all  so  unheard  of,  she  thought,  as  she  began 
to  pace  slowly  up  and  down  the  long  room;  this  con- 
tinued pampering  of  her;  this — this — determination 
to  crush  her  spirit  of  independence.  That  was 
'exactly  what  it  was !  She  stood  stock  still  as  the 
knowledge  of  it  burst  with  a  sudden  force  upon  her 
consciousness.  A  conspiracy!  To  make  her  as  de- 
pendent as  before  she  had  been  independent! 

One  by  one  she  began  to  recall  things.  Whenever 
she  said  she  was  going  across  the  bay  to  see  Susan, 
she  was  never  questioned,  but  Norman  simply  an- 
nounced that  the  car  would  be  waiting  for  her  at  such 
and  such  a  time  to  make  such  and  such  a  boat.  Once 


THE  LOSING   GAIN  193 

or  twice  when  sheer  contrariness  had  urged  her  to 
say  she  preferred  another  hour,  there  had  been  no 
argument.  Norman  had  simply  said:  "Very  well, 
dear, — any  time  you  say  the  car  will  be  ready." 

And  there  it  always  was — the  big  limousine,  with 
the  respectful,  perfectly  groomed  chauffeur — wait- 
ing to  take  her  across  the  bay  to  Susan's  and  bring 
her  home  again  whenever  she  was  ready.  He 
treated  her  as  though  she  was  a  child  or  incompetent 
to  go  about  by  herself.  He  insisted  upon  buying  her 
beautiful  gowns  when  she  said  she  preferred  simple 
things.  And  when  she  said  she  would  like  to  remain 
in  black  for  her  mother,  he  wouldn't  hear  of  it. 

"Simple  things,  by  all  Weans,  dearest, — for  after 
all  they  are  the  prettiest, — only  simple  things  of 
elegance.  As  to  your  wearing  black  for  any  length 
of  time,  that  is  simply  out  of  the  question.  You  were 
the  most  wonderful  daughter  in  the  world; 
there  isn't  a  thing  with  which  you  can  reproach  your- 
self. Your  mother  never  would  approve  of  your 
wearing  mourning,  and  I  know  it  is  bound  to  have 
a  depressing  effect  upon  your  constitution." 

In  Norah's  nature  there  was  something  that 
shrunk  from  arguments, — something  inborn  and 
hard  to  explain.  It  was  not  the  only  respect  in 
which  she  was  a  replica  of  her  father,  stubborn,  but 
hard-to-disturb  James  Grant.  And  it  was  this  aver- 
sion to  arguing  that  caused  her  to  give  in  to  so  many 
things  at  which  she  inwardly  rebelled. 

So  Norman  had  his  way  about  the  dresses.  He 
would  order  the  chauffeur  to  bring  her  into  town  at 
a  certain  time,  would  lunch  with  her  at  some  interest- 
ing place  and  then  take  her  to  some  exclusive  shop  to 
select  a  lovely  gown.  Invariably  it  was  he  who 


194  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

rdid  the  selecting,  as  she  could  not  display  any  interest 
where  she  felt  none.  But  this  sort  of  thing  happened 
rarely.  He  was  too  busy  a  man  to  devote  much  time 
to  selecting  women's  apparel.  So  it  was  nearly 
always  left  to  Frances  to  do  the  selecting  and  send 
the  things  home. 

When  it  came  to  money,  Norah  had  expected  to 
have  a  regular,  stipulated  monthly  allowance,  and 
when  in  the  first  few  weeks  of  her  married  life,  she 
broached  the  subject  to  Norman,  he  laughed  as 
though  he  considered  it  humorous. 

"Why,  darling,  of  course  you  can  have  all  the 
money  you  want !  You  have  but  to  ask  for  it.  All 
that  I  have  is  yours.  I  have  opened  an  account  for 
you  in  every  worth-while  shop  in  town;  the  limousine 
is  always  at  your  disposal,  and  I'll  always  see  that 
my  little  girl  always  has  plenty  of  spending  money  in 
her  purse." 

And  he  always  did.  He  would  pick  up  her  bag 
whenever  it  was  in  sight,  or  even  open  the  drawer  of 
the  dresser  and  look  for  it  to  slip  two  or  three  good- 
sized  bills  into  it,  without  looking  to  see  whether 
there  was  any  left  from  the  last  time  or  not.  Norah 
always  removed  the  bills  when  she  was  alone,  and  de- 
posited them  in  a  neat  little  pile  in  a  secret  drawer  of 
her  escritoire.  If  Norah  Rogers  had  laid  her  case 
before  judges  and  juries,  before  nine-tenths  of  the 
world's  population,  they  would  most  probably  have 
proclaimed  her  of  unsound  mind.  She  had  a  hus- 
band who  worshiped  her,  who  fairly  smothered  her 
with  kindness,  devotion  and  attention.  She  had  a 
sister-in-law,  one  of  whose  only  thoughts  in  life 
seemed  to  be  to  provide  for  her  every  comfort  and 
her  happiness,  as  well  as  for  her  husband's,  and  yet 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  195 

she  found  herself  discontented,  and  at  times, 
miserably  unhappy. 

And  yet  where  nine-tenths  of  the  people  would 
have  condemned  Norah  Rogers  and  have  designated 
her  as  ungrateful,  unappreciative,  and  a  decidedly 
unreasonable  woman,  the  other  tenth  would  have 
understood  and  sympathized  with  her. 

The  sudden  transplanting  of  a  self-reliant, 
capable,  energetic  girl  such  as  Norah  Grant  had  al- 
ways been  into  a  bed  of  luxury  and  idleness  was 
like  taking  a  wild  poppy  from  its  field  and  placing  it 
in  a  hot  house  amidst  rare  orchids  and  camelias. 
From  a  girl  who  had  been  independent  in  every  re- 
spect, not  only  in  a  wage-earning  capacity,  she  found 
herself  deteriorating  into  a  mere  nonentity  of  utter 
dependence  far  worse  than  a  child  of  tender  years, 
or  a  deficient.  She,  whose  very  clothes  were  bought 
for  her;  whose  actual  thinking  done. 

Two  things  alone  kept  her  from  telling  Norman 
exactly  how  she  felt,  and  demanding  a  complete  re- 
vision of  matters.  First  of  all,  she  loved  him  so 
dearly  she  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  hurting  him, 
and  hurt  him  she  would,  deeply,  if  he  thought  for  an 
instant  that  she  resented  the  very  things  his  great 
love  for  her  prompted  him  to  do.  She  knew,  only 
too  well,  that  her  second  reason  for  maintaining  a 
bitter  silence  was  her  distaste  for  argument  or  scenes. 

In  the  end,  she  decided  upon  patience  as  the  best 
solution  for  her  problem.  Perhaps  in  time,  things 
would  naturally  re-adjust  themselves  and  Norman 
would  realize  that  it  was  impossible  to  continue  treat- 
ing her  in  this  manner. 

What  had  happened  to  his  oft-expressed  opinions 
about  a  wife's  duties  to  her  husband  and  her  home? 


196  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Surely  he  was  living  up  to  anything  save  what  he  had 
preached,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned!  When  she 
thought  of  that,  she  was  compelled  to  believe  that  all 
he  was  doing  now  was  simply  because  he  sincerely 
thought  that  she  was  in  need  of  care  and  attention 
for  a  while,  and  that  afterwards,  he  would  be  will- 
ing for  her  to  assume  all  the  responsibilities  of  the 
mistress  of  her  home. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  with  which  she  buoyed  her- 
self and  managed  to  live  through  the  uninteresting, 
empty  days  and  weeks. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TIME,  they  arc  fond  of  platitudinously  reflect- 
ing, brings  wonderful  changes,  heals  wounds 
and  readjusts  lives. 

But,  just  as  there  are  exceptions  to  all  rules,  so 
it  was  in  Norah's  case.  Conditions,  if  anything,  as 
far  as  her  mental  rebellion  and  its  causes  were  con- 
cerned, grew  worse  as  weeks  passed  into  months. 
There  seemed  so  little  she  could  do  about  it,  too. 
No  one  knew  better  than  she  how  unlike  her  it  was 
to  accept  conditions  that  were  distasteful,  but  she 
was  coming  to  wonder  if  this  was  the  once  self-reliant 
Norah  Grant,  as  she  gazed  on  her  countenance  each 
morning  in  the  triple  mirrors  of  her  dressing  table, 
with  their  carved  ivory  frames.  Had  these  people 
made  her  a  ditferent  entity?  By  what  peculiar 
alchemy  had  they  accomplished  it, — this  change  to 
the  nonentity  she  now  felt  herself  to  be, — she,  whom 
she  realized,  was  becoming  gradually  resigned  to  her 
fate  and  settling  into  a  sort  of  listless  apathy? 

She  was  busy  enough  in  some  way,  however,  for 
she  went  everywhere, — to  luncheons,  receptions, 
teas,  lectures,  matinees.  But  always  with  Frances 
and  some  of  her  friends.  She  was  never  particularly 
interested  in  anything  they  said  or  did,  and  would 
sometimes  sit  through  an  entire  afternoon  without 
scarcely  uttering  a  word.  "That  beautiful  little  Mrs. 
Rogers,"  they  called  her.  "Always  so  sweet  and 
demure." 

197 


198  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Frances  fairly  adored  her;  she  was  so  pliable  in 
her  hands;  so  content  to  let  the  older  woman  fuss 
over  her  and  wait  upon  her.  Ever  since  Frances 
could  remember,  she  had  longed  for  someone  to 
mother.  While  Norman  was  a  very  young  boy,  she 
lavished  her  wealth  of  affection  upon  him,  but  as  he 
attained  the  state  of  manhood,  she  discovered  that 
he  was  embarrassed  whenever  she  was  outwardly  too 
demonstrative,  and  she  had  stopped  it.  Not  without 
a  pang  of  loss,  though,  so  what  could  be  more 
natural  now  than  for  her  to  expend  all  that  stored 
up  tenderness  on  his  wife?  No  mother  could 
possibly  have  been  more  kind,  more  gentle,  more  lov- 
ing or  considerate  than  Frances  Rogers  was  of  her 
sister-in-law,  and  yet  Norah  had  for  so  long 
cherished  a  feeling  of  resentment  against  Frances, 
had  at  so  many  times  misconstrued  her  numerous 
acts  of  kindness,  that  had  she  suddenly  been  con- 
fronted with  the  question  as  to  whether  or  not  she 
loved  Frances,  she  would  have,  in  all  truth,  felt  com- 
pelled to  answer, — "No." 

And  yet  not  a  soul,  especially  Frances  herself, 
ever  dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  Along  with  every- 
thing else,  Norah  had  developed  a  secretiveness 
about  herself  and  her  feelings  that  was  quite  as  for- 
eign to  the  out-spoken,  straight-forward  girl  of  a 
few  months  before,  as  was  her  giving  in. 

The  only  times  when  she  was  separated  from 
Frances  were  when  she  paid  an  occasional  visit  to 
Susan,  and  it  was  Frances  who  declined  to  accompany 
her,  insisting  that  the  sisters  must  have  a  lot  to  say 
to  one  another,  and  therefore  should  be  alone. 

Everyone  spoke  of  Norah  and  Norman  Rogers 
as  a  wonderfully  happy  couple,  perfectly  mated  and 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  199 

absolutely  suited  to  one  another.  Norah  was  a 
greatly  envied  woman,  not  only  among  the  women 
belonging  to  the  San  Francisco  and  the  peninsula's 
smart  sets,  with  whom  she  now  mingled,  but  among 
an  entirely  different  class;  Susan's  friends,  and  even 
Susan  herself. 

Just  what  they  thought  was  made  very  clear  to 
her  one  day  when  she  attended  a  luncheon  and  bridge 
that  Susan  insisted  upon  giving  in  her  honor.  Susan 
hadn't  included  Frances  in  the  invitation  because  she 
was  having  only  two  tables  of  bridge,  as  she  ex- 
plained to  her  sister,  and  had  already  given  up  her 
own  seat  to  Norah. 

"Besides,"  Susy  added, \a  bit  resentfully,  "Frances 
don't  invite  me  to  every  affair  she  gives,  so  why 
should  I  worry?" 

Norah  was  apologetic  as  she  explained  the  situa- 
tion to  Frances,  using  as  an  excuse  for  Susan's  action 
her  inability  to  seat  more  than  a  very  limited  number 
at  her  table. 

"Why,  it's  perfectly  all  right,  Norah,"  Frances 
answered.  "Susan  surely  doesn't  have  to  stand  on 
ceremony  with  me.  I  want  you  to  look  extra  well," 
she  changed  the  subject,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye, 
"because  I  know  how  anxious  Susan  is  to  exhibit  you 
to  her  friends." 

"Susy  was  just  as  proud  of  me  before  I  was  mar- 
ried," Norah  could  not  refrain  from  answering. 

But  Susy  hadn't  been  and  no  one  knew  it  better 
than  Frances,  wise  enough  as  she  was  to  say  no  more 
about  it. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  following  Wednesday, 
Norah  stepped  out  of  her  limousine  and  walked  up 
the  gravel  path  to  Susan's  little  bungalow. 


200  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Oh,  Norah,  I'm  so  glad  you're  here  ahead  of 
the  others,  so  we  can  have  a  little  chat!"  Susan  kissed 
her  effusively,  but  her  eyes  strayed.  "Oh,  what  a 
gorgeous  coat!"  she  enthused,  as  Norah  started  to 
remove  her  garments. 

"I'm  glad  you  like  it,"  Norah  said,  as  she  laid 
aside  the  long  moleskin  wrap  across  Susan's  bed. 

"Like  it?  It's  beautiful!  I'm  glad  you  got 
mole — it's  so  stylish " 

"Yes;  I  believe  it  is  to  be  worn  a  great  deal  this 
winter." 

"When  did  you  get  it?" 

Susan  always  asked  so  many  questions,  Norah 
thought. 

"Saturday,"  she  answered  monosyllabically,  allow- 
ing Susan  to  think  she  had  selected  it  herself,  instead 
of  having  found  it  in  her  room  when  she  had  re- 
turned with  Frances  from  a  matinee. 

"You  have  the  most  wonderful "  The  door- 
bell prevented  Susan's  sentence  completion,  and  in 
her  heart  Norah  was  glad.  She  was  so  sick  of  being 
told  how  wonderful  her  husband  was!  And  she 
did  wish  Susan  would  stop  going  into  ecstasies  about 
everything;  it  always  irritated  her. 

One  by  one  the  guests  arrived,  and  at  one  o'clock 
they  were  all  gathered  around  Susan's  luncheon 
table.  Everyone  kept  up  a  constant  chatter  with  the 
exception  of  Norah,  silent  for  the  most  part,  as  she 
had  come  to  be.  Listening  disinterestedly,  her  gaze 
roved  about  the  room.  The  walls  were  still  red, — 
but  how  dull  and  faded!  She  remembered  how, 
years  before,  she  had  disapproved  of  Susan's  idea 
of  furnishing  a  home. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  201 

She  was  sure  that,  in  her  own  way,  Susan  was  per- 
fectly happy,  though,  while  she 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  She  turned  to  Mrs.  Rollins, 
a  pretty  little  blonde  woman  at  her  right.  "Were 
you  speaking  to  me?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Rogers.  I  was  just  saying  I  had 
heard  so  much  about  your  beautiful  home  and  gar- 
dens. Susan  says  it's  the  most  attractive  place  in 
Burlingame." 

"Susy  is  exaggerating  a  little,"  smiled  Norah. 
"Our  home  is  very  comfortable  and  the  gardens  are 
lovely,  but  there  are  a  great  many  homes  out  there 
more  elaborate." 

"I'm  hearing  such  wonderful  things  about  your 
husband,  Mrs.  Rogers."  The  lady  next  to  Susan 
spoke  from  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

"Yes,  indeed!"  Mrs.  Campbell  sighed.  "It  must 
be  a  joy  to  have  a  husband  who  adores  one  like  yours 
does." 

"And  to  keep  giving  you  presents  all  the  time!" 
Mrs.  Rollins  added,  " — and  paying  you  the  same 
attention  as  in  your  courtship  days !" 

"Your  sister  tells  me  you  have  such  a  beautiful 
new  coat,  Mrs.  Rogers."  A  nervous  woman,  whose 
fingers  seemed  continually  to  be  fumbling  with  some- 
thing, spoke  to  her  jerkily.  "Do  you  mind  if  I  try 
it  on  after  luncheon?  I'm  going  to  get  a  new  coat 
on  the  first.  Of  course  Joe  could  never  afford  mole, 
but  I  want  to  see  if  the  style  is  becoming,  then  per- 
haps I  could  get  something  like  it  in  cloth." 

"By  all  means  try  it  on,  Mrs.  Peters,"  Norah 
answered  heartily. 

Not  only  Mrs.  Peters,  but  all  the  others  tried  on 


202  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Norah's  wonder  coat  after  luncheon.  They  all 
went  into  raptures  over  it,  and  it  seemed  to  Norah 
as  she  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  watched  them, 
that  they  even  outdid  Susy  in  raving.  The  style, 
the  quality  of  the  skins,  the  handsome  lining, — all 
came  in  for  their  share  of  admiration  and  for  the 
rest  of  the  afternoon,  as  they  sat  at  the  little  bridge 
tables,  Norah  kept  hearing  from  all  sides,  that  she 
was  indeed  a  fortunate  woman. 

At  five  o'clock,  when  the  others  had  gone,  and  she1 
was  about  ready  to  leave  herself,  Jack  came  noisily 
in,  a  son  hanging  on  each  arm. 

"Well,  Norah!"  he  greeted.  "My,  but  you're 
looking  like  a  million  dollars!  Isn't  she,  Susy?"  He 
gave  his  wife  a  matter-of-fact  kiss.  "How's  Doc 
and  everything,  Norah?" 

"Doc  and  everything's  fine,  Jack,"  she  answered, 
smilingly.  Jack  always  amused  her  with  his  breezy, 
good-natured  familiarity. 

"Not  so  bad,  eh,  Norah?  You  could  have  done 
a  lot  worse  than  take  your  brother-in-law's  advice, 
eh?  Beautiful  clothes;  handsome  limousine;  hob- 
nobbing with  real  swells  in  society, — you're  a  mighty 
lucky  girl,  Norah!" 

There  it  was  again ! 

"Yes,  Jack,  I  suppose  I  am,"  she  answered  quietly. 

As  they  walked  with  her  to  the  car  where  the 
chauffeur  stood  holding  the  door  open,  Jack  sud- 
denly turned  to  Susan. 

"Oh,  Susy,  a  fellow  was  in  to-day  about  trading 
in  our  piano  for  an  electric  player." 

"That  would  be  great,  Jack.  We  could  have  all 
the  popular  music!  This  way,  nobody  plays  and 
the  piano  is  hardly  ever  opened." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  203 

"Well,  I  told  him  to  come  and  see  you  about  it. 
Told  him  the  running  of  the  house  and  all  such  things 
were  entirely  in  my  wife's  hands." 

Rolling  down  the  street  on  her  way  to  the  ferry, 
Norah  closed  her  eyes  and  sighed.  All  those  women 
that  afternoon  had  envied  her.  Susan  and  Jack  had 
envied  her,  and  now  she  found  herself  almost  envy- 
ing them,  the  way  they  went  through  life  together, — 
Jack's  faith  and  confidence  in  Susan.  UI  leave  such 
things  entirely  in  her  hands."  The  words  rang  in 
Norah's  ears.  She  felt,  at  that  moment,  as  though 
she  would  give  her  life  to  hear  Norman  say  them. 

For  six  months  the  routine  in  the  Rogers  home 
went  along  with  a  smoothness  that  would  have 
brought  joy  to  the  hearts  of  James  and  Evelyn 
Grant  those  days  before  the  earthquake.  Nothing 
changed.  Nothing  seemed  ever  going  to  change,  as 
Norah  thought  in  one  of  those  moments  alone  in  her 
boudoir  when  allowed  herself  the  luxury  of  giving  in 
to  maddening  contemplation. 

Spring  came,  and  the  lilac  bushes  were  in  bloom 
beneath  her  window.  One  morning,  as  she 
attempted  to  get  out  of  bed,  she  fainted,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life. 

When  she  opened  her  eyes,  she  was  lying  on  the 
chaise-longue  near  the  window,  with  the  morning 
sun  streaming  in  and  filling  the  room  with  its 
radiance.  Norman  was  on  his  knees  beside  her.  He 
gathered  her  gently,  reverently,  in  his  arms  and 
whispered  the  glorious  truth  in  her  ears. 

She  was  to  become  a  mother! 

Norman  never  forgot  the  expression  of  her  eyes; 
the  wonderment;  the  joy.  She  threw  her  arms  about 
his  neck  and  held  him  close,  as  she  murmured,  her 


204  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

voice  thick  with  emotion:  "Pray  that  God  will  make 
me  worthy  of  this  beautiful  gift!" 

From  that  moment,  a  new  Norah  sprang  into  life; 
a  Norah  so  happy,  so  buoyant,  she  was  a  revelation 
to  all  who  came  in  contact  with  her.  There  was  a 
song  on  her  lips  all  through  the  day,  and  her  heart 
was  so  full  of  joy  she  felt  it  must  burst.  They  pam- 
pered her  more  than  ever.  She  was  guarded  as  a 
rare  and  precious  jewel.  She  was  sure  that  nowhere 
in  the  universe  was  there  a  queen  who  was  waited 
on  more  than  she. 

But  she  didn't  care.  They  could  do  whatever 
they  pleased  with  her.  Nothing  mattered.  Soon, 
she  would  have  something  to  do !  A  way  to  occupy 
every  moment  of  her  time!  Her  baby!  Her  very 
own!  Not  so  long  ago  she  had  thought  life  so 
empty,  and  now  it  was  soon  to  be  so  full, — so  full  of 
this  wonderful  new  joy, — the  joy  of  motherhood! 

All  the  old  resentment  against  Frances  was  ban- 
ished from  her  heart,  for  she  felt  it  impossible  for 
her  to  harbor  unkindly  thoughts  toward  anyone  or 
anything.  But  as  is  so  often  the  case  in  real  life, — 
so  different  from  the  idealism  of  fiction,  such  con- 
ditions were  too  good  to  last.  Always  the  jealous 
Fate, — too  jealous  to  allow  mere  mortals  an  over- 
sufficiency  of  joy,  must  step  in  to  spoil  it! 

Something  occurred  to  Norah  to  bring  back  her 
discarded  resentment  four-fold. 

All  through  the  happy  months  of  waiting,  Norah 
had  been  secretly  planning,  and  working,  when  she 
had  the  chance,  for  the  baby's  arrival.  She  had  the 
layette  all  planned  to  her  satisfaction.  There  were 
many  things  she  would  make  herself,  and  had 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  205 

already  started.  It  was  so  wonderful  to  embroider 
and  put  a  love  thought  in  every  stitch.  The  balance 
of  the  things  she  would  buy  at  a  dear  little  baby 
shop  she  knew  of  in  the  city.  She  made  up  her  mind 
that  this  was  one  shopping  expedition  on  which  she 
would  go  alone.  It  was  all  very  well  for  Frances  to 
go  with  her  to  select  her  own  things,  but  this  was 
different ;  it  was  for  her  very  own  baby  and  she  would 
go  alone.  She  would  not  even  take  Susan.  She 
would  select  each  thing  with  care  and  love  and  there 
should  be  no  one  to  advise  and  hurry  her.  She  had 
not  touched  any  of  the  money  that  Norman  con- 
tinually slipped  into  her  purse  and  there  was  quite 
a  sum  in  the  drawer  of  her  escritoire.  Heretofore 
she  had  used  her  own  money  for  any  little  thing  she 
might  have  needed;  money  that  she  had  saved  dur- 
ing the  years  she  was  employed  by  Daniel  Thorne. 
But  she  would  take  the  money  for  the  baby's  layette 
from  the  drawer,  for  she  thought  it  only  fair  to 
Norman  that  he  should  have  a  share  in  getting  their 
.child's  outfit. 

Then  in  her  mind  she  set  the  day  to  go.  It  would 
be  the  coming  Thursday.  She  decided  she  would 
offer  no  explanations ;  she  simply  would  order  the  car 
for  eleven  o'clock  and  go. 

On  Tuesday  Frances  went  in  to  her  literary  club  as 
usual.  It  was  about  noon  on  Wednesday  while 
Norah  was  in  the  garden  gathering  flowers  for  her 
room  that  Magnin's  delivery  truck  drove  up  to  the 
door.  In  about  twenty  minutes  Frances  came  out  to 
the  garden  to  ask : 

"Norah  dear,  please  come  up  to  your  room  with 
me  for  a  few  minutes — I've  something  to  show  you." 

Expecting   to    see    a    gift    of    some    kind    from 


206  THE   LOSING   GAIN 

Norman,  a  thing  she  was  quite  used  to  by  this  time, 
she  followed  Frances  up  the  stairs. 

As  she  opened  the  door  Frances  put  her  arm 
lovingly  about  her  waist  and  said:  "Look,  darling!" 

The  bed,  chaise-longue,  chairs  and  every  other 
available  piece  of  furniture  in  the  room  was  covered 
with  baby  clothes,  of  the  daintiest  materials,  all  ex- 
quisitely hand  made  and  embroidered.  If  a  young 
king  were  expected  the  outfit  could  not  have  been 
more  lavish  or  more  beautiful.  It  was  enough  to 
make  anyone  open  eyes  in  astonishment  and 
stare. 

Norah  was  staring;  staring  straight  ahead  of  her 
with  eyes  filled  with  horror.  She  began  to  tremble 
violently  and  it  was  then  that  Frances  looked  at  her. 
Back  she  drew,  frightened  at  what  she  saw.  Norah's 
face  was  white  as  death  itself.  Her  eyes  were  black 
with  rage.  Brushing  Frances  aside  none  too  gently, 
she  rushed  into  the  room  and  in  a  fury  tore  the 
things  from  where  they  lay,  spread  out  on  exhibition, 
to  toss  them  into  a  heap  upon  the  floor. 

"Take  them  out  of  here!"  she  screamed.  "Out 
of  my  sight,  every  one  of  them,  and  never  let  me  see 
them  again!" 

"Why,  Norah,  darling "  Frances  was  as 

white  as  she,  and  stood  shaking  in  the  doorway. 

"Don't  you  dare  to  'darling'  me!"  Norah's 
scream  rose  to  a  shriek.  "I  hate  you!  I  hate  you! 
Don't  come  near  me !  Don't  touch  me !  I  don't  know 
what  I'd  do " 

"Oh,  Norah!  Norah!"  Tears  streamed  down 
Frances'  cheeks.  She  was  so  bewildered  she  could 
not  inquire  what  had  happened.  Never  for  one 
moment  did  it  occur  to  her — never  had  it  occurred  to 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  207 

her — that  she  might  have  engendered  resentment  by 
any  of  her  well-meaning  proffers.  She,  too,  had  had 
such  happiness  in  selecting  the  poor,  little  mistreated 
layette;  not  because  of  the  baby  so  much,  however,  as 
the  hope  she  had  of  pleasing  Norah.  She  could 
guess  nothing  of  the  long  pent-up  feelings  that  now 
had  burst  in  explosive  wrath  on  her  own  devoted 
head.  She  could  only  set  down  the  emotional  dis- 
play to  physical  reasons  which  she  knew  might  take 
any  unreasonable  course  with  a  woman  in  Norah's 
condition,  but  of  which  she  knew  nothing. 

"Oh,  Norah!"  she  cried  again.  "What  has  hap- 
pened to  you,  dear?  Is  there  anything  wrong  with 
the  clothes  I  selected -?" 

"That's  it!  That's  it!  You  selected — you! 
What  right  had  you  to  dare  to  rob  me  of  my 
greatest  joy?" 

A  light  broke  on  the  sister-in-law's  consciousness. 

"Oh,  if  I  had  only  known,  dear,"  she  begged,  "I 
would  so  gladly  have  taken  you  with  me.  I 
would » 

"You  would  have  taken  me?  What  have  you  to 
do  with  it?"  Even  in  her  unappeased  rage  Norah 
saw  that  every  word  she  uttered  went  straight  to 
Frances'  heart,  and  yet  like  an  enraged  tigress  she 
felt  glory  in  the  pain  she  was  causing.  "This  was 
something  that  belonged  entirely  to  me — to  me !  Do 
you  understand?  To  me  alone  and  yet  you  have 
dared  to  steal  it  from  me!  You're  a  thief,  Frances 
Rogers,  a  thief!  Do  you  hear  me?  I'll  never  for- 
give you  for  this — as  long  as  I  live!" 

"Oh!  Oh,  my  God!"  Frances  gasped.  She  sank 
to  the  floor,  a  little  crushed  heap,  sobbing  through 
her  pain-bruised  lips. 


208  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Norah  only  stood  and  looked  at  her.  No  attempt 
to  move  did  she  make.  As  if  turned  to  stone  she 
stood  there,  but  in  her  stony,  enraged  eyes  there  was 
no  pity  for  the  pathetic  figure  upon  the  floor.  What 
could  have  happened  to  her — always  so  sweet  and 
gentle;  she  who  could  never  bear  even  to  think  of 
anyone  suffering — that  she  could  stand  there  now 
and  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  utter  one  kindly  word? 
If  anything  the  scene  before  her  only  seemed  to  en- 
rage her  more. 

"For  days  I  have  thought  of  nothing  else  but  my 
baby's  outfit,"  she  went  on,  her  voice  tense  and 
chilled.  "At  night  I  have  lain  awake  planning  it, 
long  after  Norman  had  fallen  asleep.  I  was  going 
into  town  to-morrow  all  by  myself  to — to — buy — it — 

and  now "     She  ended  in  a  heartbroken  wail  as 

she  sank  to  the  couch.  For  rage  at  last  had  spent 
itself,  but  it  had  taken  something  out  of  Norah 
Rogers  that  nothing  could  bring  back. 

When  Frances  finally  managed  to  pull  herself  to- 
gether, she  went  quietly  from  the  room,  without  at- 
tempting to  go  near  Norah,  who  was  still  sobbing  on 
the  couch  where  she  had  thrown  herself. 

Frances  forced  herself  to  reach  the  telephone  to 
call  her  brother  and  ask  him  to  come  home. 

"Has  anything  happened?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"Norah  isn't  very  well,  but  it's  nothing  serious."' 
She  could  not  keep  the  agitation  from  her  voice, 
however. 

"I'll  come  at  once,"  he  answered. 

When  Norman  arrived,  Frances  met  him  at  the 
door  and  took  him  into  the  living  room,  where  she 
told  him  what  had  happened.  She  didn't  spare  her- 
self in  the  least;  nor  did  she  tell  him  of  all  the 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  f09 

terrible  things  Norah  had  said  to  her.  That  was  not 
in  Frances  Rogers;  her  years,  heritage,  training,  had 
given  her  a  bigness  that  is  characteristic  of  fine 
women.  She  told  him  how  Norah  had  resented  her 
buying  the  baby  clothes  and  how  she  had  worked 
herself  into  a  rage  over  it.  She  feared  it  might  re- 
sult in  an  illness,  so  she  had  telephoned  him. 

"Fm  glad  you  did,"  he  answered.  "I'll  go  to 
her  at  once." 

Upon  entering  his  wife's  room,  Norman  was  sur- 
prised to  find  her  sitting  in  a  rocker  by  the  window. 
She  had  bathed  her  eyes,  smoothed  her  hair  and 
obliterated  all  traces  of  the  scene  of  two  hours  be- 
fore. In  a  corner  of  the  room  stood  the  boxes  from 
Magnln's,  packed  and  tied. 

"I  came  home  a  little  earlier  than  usual,  darling," 
he  said  as  he  stooped  to  kiss  her. 

"I'm  glad  you  did,  Norman,"  she  said.  "I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

He  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"Norman,  did  Frances  tell  you  what  happened 
to-day?" 

"Yes,  dear,  she  did,  and  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you 
how  sorry  I  am.  I  never  dreamt  for  a  moment  that 
you  would  feel  that  way  about  it." 

"Then  you  knew  that  Frances  was  going  to  do 
this?"  She  did  not  seem  greatly  surprised,  but  her 
realization  came  dully,  in  words  resigned. 

"Why,  yes;  I  asked  her  to  do  it.  You  see,  darling, 
I  wanted  to  spare  you  from  any  tiresome  exertion." 

"Norman,  did  you  actually  think  buying  my  baby's 
layette  would  be  a  tiresome  exertion?" 

"You  put  it  to  me  so  strangely,  dear,"  he  flushed. 
"Probably  it  is  some  of  my  masculine  stupidity — 


210  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

shopping  to  me  is  always  more  or  less  of  an  exer- 
tion." 

"Norman "  Norah's  hesitation  was  for 

minutes  as  her  mind  groped  about  for  words  in 
<vhich  to  express  herself  understandingly — ''I'm 
— I'm  sorry  for  what  happened  to-day — sincerely 
sorry.  I  behaved  very  badly  to  Frances  when  she 
was  only  following  out  your  instructions.  You  are 
really  the  one  who  is  to  blame."  There  was  no 
anger  in  her  voice  now,  only  a  sad  little  note  of 
resignation.  Her  nervous  fingers  picked  at  the 
orchid  ruffle  of  a  fluffy  pillow. 

"I  know  I'm  to  blame,  darling,  and  I'd  give  any- 
thing in  the  world  to  undo  the  thing,  but  of  course 
that's  impossible.  You  shall  go  into  town  to-morrow 
and  buy  whatever  you  wish." 

"Oh,  Norman,  how  well  you  understand  me! 
Now  that  the  child  has  repented  of  her  misbehavior, 
she  may  have  the  desired  toy." 

She  began  to  laugh,  a  peculiar  little  mirthless 
laugh  that  ended  in  a  wild  hysterical  outburst.  Used 
as  he  was  to  the  vagaries  of  the  woman  who  is  to  be- 
come a  mother,  it  was  with  no  little  alarm  that  he 
watched  her.  He  put  her  to  bed  finally,  she,  with 
the  exhaustion  of  pent-up  emotion  expended,  placidly 
allowing  him  his  will.  He  administered  a  sedative 
and  sat  beside  her  until  she  fell  asleep. 

"Hysteria,"  he  said  to  Frances,  when  she  came 
quietly  to  the  door  to  see  if  she  could  be  of  any 
assistance.  "Very  often  women  in  her  condition 
suffer  from  this  sort  of  thing.  I've  given  her  some- 
thing to  quiet  her  and  she'll  be  all  right  when  she 
awakens." 

Norah  did  not  return  the  boxes  of  clothes.     She 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  211 

knew  that  no  matter  what  she  bought  now  there 
could  never  be  the  joy  in  it  that  she  had  anticipated. 
She  didn't  care  now  whether  she  ever  shopped  again 
or  not.  When  Susan  came  over  to  see  her  a  few 
days  later,  she  insisted  upon  being  shown  the  baby 
clothes.  Norah  pointed  to  a  chest  of  drawers  and 
then  turned  away  while  Susan  proceeded  to  examine 
every  little  garment  and  go  into  raptures  wilder  than 
ever. 

"It's  the  most  beautiful  baby  outfit  I  ever  saw," 
she  exclaimed  as  she  carefully  refolded  each  article 
and  put  it  back  in  its  place.  "Don't  you  take  the 
things  out  every  day  and  look  at  them,  Norah?" 

"No."  The  answer  was  short.  "I  haven't  been 
doing  it." 

"Well,  you  will  before  long,"  Susan  chattered  on. 
"I  did  every  day  until  Robert  was  born  and  then 
again  with  Junior.  It's  funny,  but  all  women  are 
like  that.  I  guess  it's  only  natural." 

"Susy,  dear,  please,  my  head  aches  dreadfully  and 
I'd  rather  you  talked  about — something  else." 

"Of  course;  we'll  talk  about  anything  you  please. 
I'm  such  a  pest."  Susan  came  and  sat  beside  her. 
"Only  I  thought  you  would  like  to  talk  about " 

"Tell  me  about  yourself,  Susan,"  Norah  inter- 
rupted, "about  you  and  Jack  and  the  boys." 

"Why,  Norah,"  Susan  laughed,  "what  is  there  to 
tell  you  that  you  don't  already  know?" 

"How  you  and  Jack  get  on  together;  how  you 
manage  your  home  and  everything." 

"Oh,  now  I  know  you're  going  to  scold  me  for 
buying  a  new  davenport  on  the  installment  plan." 

"No,  Susy,  dear;  I'm  not  going  to  scold.  I — I 
think  you  and  Jack  are  both  wonderful." 


CHAPTER  XX 

A'  the  dinner  table  one  evening  late  in  October, 
Norman  turned  to  Frances  as  he  helped  her 
to  the  roast. 

"Sophie  Bradbury  returned  from  abroad  yester- 
day and  ran  in  to  see  me  this  afternoon.  I  asked  her 
down  to  luncheon  on  Sunday.  I  knew  you  would  be 
anxious  to  see  her,  and  I  want  you  to  meet  her, 
Norah." 

"The  Dr.  Bradbury  I've  heard  you  speak  of  so 
often?"  His  wife  displayed  an  unusual  interest. 
She  looked  up  from  her  sherbert  the  cooling  fra- 
grance of  which  had  occupied  her  attention. 

"Yes,  the  same, — Dr.  Sophie  Bradbury, — one  of 
the  finest  women  I  know,  and  a  mighty  clever  M.D., 
too." 

She  came  on  Sunday,  and  Norah  liked  her  from 
the  moment  she  held  out  her  hand  and  said:  "Mrs. 
Rogers,  I've  known  your  husband  since  he  was  a 
small  boy.  I  hope  you  and  I  are  going  to  be 
friends."' 

Sophie  Bradbury  was  a  tall,  splendidly  built 
woman,  close  to  fifty,  though  one  would  scarcely 
have  supposed  it,  judging  from  her  face,  free  from 
lines,  and  from  the  clearness  and  sparkle  of  her  ex- 
pressive blue  eyes.  Her  dark  hair,  sprinkled  with 
gray,  clustered  in  soft  waves  about  her  face. 

She  had  begun  to  practice  medicine  when  Dr. 
212 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  213 

Peter  Rogers  was  at  the  zenith  of  his  career,  and  he 
had  taken  an  interest  in  her,  shown  a  kindness  that 
had  won  her  as  a  lifelong  friend  and  grateful 
admirer.  So  many  times  he  had  gone  out  of  his  way 
to  help  her,  a  struggling  beginner,  and  when  so  many 
of  his  colleagues  had  ridiculed  the  possibility  of  a 
successful  woman  practitioner,  he  had  only  doubled 
his  efforts  to  assist  and  encourage  her.  His  faith  in 
her  never  wavered,  and  she  had  justified  it  in  every 
sense  of  the  word  as  the  years  went  by. 

It  was  little  wonder,  then,  that  she  felt  a  deep 
affection  for  the  Rogers  family.  There  was  about 
a  year's  difference  between  her  own  and  Frances' 
age,  and  Norman  she  had  known  since  he  was  a  child 
of  six  or  seven.  A  few  months  before  Norman's 
marriage  she  had  gone  on  a  tour  of  the  world  and 
so  Norah  had  not  met  her,  although  she  had  so 
often  heard  her  name  mentioned. 

Norah  had  not  spent  a  more  delightful  afternoon 
for  a  long  time  than  the  one  that  Sunday  when  they 
all  sat  around  the  brightly  burning  log  fire  in  the 
living  room  and  listened  to  Dr.  Bradbury's  interest- 
ing description  of  her  trip.  It  wasn't  so  much  what 
she  told  about,  as  it  was  the  way  in  which  Dr.  Brad- 
bury told  it  that  fascinated  Norah.  There  was 
something  so  compelling,  so  magnetic,  about  her  that 
one  felt  drawn  to  her  by  an  invisible  magnet. 

From  that  Sunday  afternoon  there  began  a  friend- 
ship so  rare,  so  sincere,  so  unselfish,  that  it  is  seldom 
found  between  two  women,  especially  when  there 
happens  to  be  more  than  twenty  years'  difference  in 
their  ages.  As  Norah  could  not  go  into  town  often, 
Dr.  Bradbury  came  out  to  see  her  whenever  she 
possibly  could.  Hours  they  spent  in  the  upstairs 


214  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

sitting  room,  or  by  the  living  room  fire.  It  was  too 
cold  and  sharp  to  sit  out  of  doors,  and  the  garden 
was  bare,  now  that  winter  was  approaching,  though 
it  was  not  without  its  charm  to  the  young  wife  who 
could  see  beauty  in  any  phase  of  nature,  and  whose 
soul  told  her,  as  she  wandered  among  the  brown 
twigs,  dead  leaves  and  half-hidden  stalks  of  the 
flowers  of  a  past  summer,  of  their  promise,  even  in 
their  drab  coat,  of  a  future  splendid  burgeoning. 

The  older  woman  did  most  of  the  talking.  Not 
for  nothing  had  Dr.  Bradbury  been  a  physician  for 
those  years.  Nor  a  woman,  first  and  foremost,  with 
a  feminine  keen  insight,  and  sympathy  to  accentuate 
it.  She  had  .not  known  Norah  Rogers  forty-eight 
hours  before  she  intuitively  knew  she  was  not  a 
happy  woman.  As  to  the  reason  or  reasons,  she  had 
not  the  faintest  idea,  but  she  meant  to  find  out, — 
not  to  satisfy  any  idle  curiosity,  but  with  a  sincere 
desire  and  a  firm  determination  to  help.  She  never 
attempted  to  question  Norah,  but  she  felt  sure  that 
some  day  of  her  own  free  will  she  would  open  her 
heart.  Of  one  thing  she  was  certain.  Norman  Rogers 
worshiped  his  wife;  he  could  not  speak  of  her 
without  the  lovelight  springing  to  his  eyes,  and  she 
was  just  as  certain  that  Norah  loved  her  husband. 
So  whatever  trouble  it  was,  it  was  not  due  to  the  lack 
of  affection  between  them.  The  thing  to  do,  she  de- 
cided, was  to  get  Norah  interested  in  something 
outside  of  herself.  She  began  by  telling  her 
about  her  own  plans,  and  as  Norah  listened,  her 
eyes  glowed  and  she  felt  the  strongest  admiration  for 
the  truly  magnanimous  woman. 

"Yes,"  explained  Dr.  Bradbury,  during  one  of 
their  confidential  tete-a-tetes,  "I'm  going  to  devote 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  215 

the  rest  of  my  days  to  caring  only  for  the  poor.  I 
have  all  the  money  I  shall  ever  need,  and  I  have 
neither  kith  nor  kin.  I  shan't  devote  my  time  to  the 
clinics.  There  are  plenty  to  do  the  work  in  those 
places.  But  I  shall  go  down  myself  into  the  poorest 
districts  to  find  my  patients." 

"Splendid,  Dr.  Bradbury!"  Norah  enthused. 
"But  what  about  the  large  practice  you  had  before 
you  went  away?" 

"I  turned  that  over  to  Cora  Preston  before  I  went 
abroad,  and  I  want  her  to  keep  it." 

"Shall  you  still  have  an  office?"  Norah  was 
greatly  interested  as  she  questioned  this  other  woman 
about  a  business  career,  the^ longed- for  thing  she  her- 
self had  had  to  abandon. 

"Yes,  indeed, — only  not  in  the  Butler  Building 
where  it  is  now  shared  with  Dr.  Preston.  I  have 
rented  a  roomy,  old-fashioned  house  in  the  Mission 
district  and " 

"The  Mission  district?  Oh,  Dr.  Bradbury!  I 
was  born  there  and  went  to  school  and  graduated 
there,  and  had  my  first  position,  and — oh, — what 
memories  it  recalls!" 

"Well,  this  house  is  on  Valencia,  near  Twentieth," 
Dr.  Bradbury  went  on,  but  she  could  not  help  won- 
dering a  little  at  Norah's  unusual  display  of  anima- 
tion. "I  can  have  both  my  home  and  office  there, 
and  I  shall  even  be  able  to  spare  a  couple  of  rooms 
for  sanitarium  purposes  in  case  I  should  want  to  take 
anyone  in." 

"Just  think!"  Norah  mused.  "Only  a  few  blocks 
from  where  we  lived  on  Capp  Street !  I — I — shall 
come  to  see  you  very  often,  Dr.  Bradbury.  It  will 
seem  like  home  to  me.  That  is,  when  I  can  spare 


£16  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

the  time, — you  know  I  expect  to  be  a  very  busy 
woman  soon." 

Norah's  baby  was  born  two  days  before  Thanks- 
giving. He  was  a  lovely  little  boy,  and  if  there  was 
a  prouder  or  happier  man  anywhere  on  earth  that 
day  than  Norman  Rogers,  the  world  would  have  had 
to  be  searched  for  him. 

"Dearest!"  he  whispered,  as  he  bent  over  the 
white  figure  on  the  bed  and  kissed  her  on  the  brow, 
"you've  given  me  a  son!  I  shall  worship  you  more 
than  ever, — if  that  is  possible.  I'm  the  happiest  man 
on  earth,  darling." 

"Oh,  Norman!"  her  voice  was  faint,  but  she 
roused  herself  with  a  touch  of  her  old  eagerness. 
"Is — is  he  pretty, — our  little  son?" 

Dr.  Midland  and  Dr.  Trask,  two  of  San  Fran- 
cisco's most  noted  obstetricians  who  had  come  down 
to  help  bring  the  Rogers  son  and  heir  into  the  world, 
and  Miss  Reade,  whose  reputation  as  the  best  nurse 
obtainable  was  assured,  exchanged  amused  glances. 

"A  woman's  question,"  Dr.  Midland  laughed.  "I 
guess  he's  about  as  pretty  as  any  little  red  bundle  of 
clothes  can  be,  Mrs.  Rogers." 

"My  baby  is  not  a  little  red  bundle!"  Norah  ob- 
jected indignantly.  "Is  he,  Norman?  I — I — want 
him."  She  held  out  her  arms. 

They  laid  the  little  mite  in  her  arms  and  she  held 
him  closely  to  her.  What  a  wonderful  moment !  A 
moment  that  husband,  sister-in-law,  no  one  could 
take  from  her.  It  was  worth  all  the  suffering  she 
had  gone  through,  all  the  heart  aches  and  disappoint- 
ments she  had  endured, — that  moment!  When  she 
held  her  baby  in  her  arms  for  the  first  time, — her  son! 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  £17 

When  Norman  Rogers,  Jr.  was  one  week  old 
Dr.  Midland  decided  that  Norah  could  not  nurse 
him.  The  baby  did  not  seem  to  thrive  on  the 
nourishment  she  was  able  to  give  him,  and  so 
Norman  agreed  with  the  other  physicians  that  the 
best  thing  to  do  was  to  put  the  baby  immediately  on 
a  scientifically  prepared  food.  Norah  tried  to 
remonstrate  with  them,  but  when  they  explained  that 
it  was  for  the  baby's  benefit,  she  finally  consented, 
though  not  without  a  struggle.  It  was  a  great  dis- 
appointment to  her,  and  she  felt  it  keenly. 

It  was  Dr.  Bradbury  who  helped  her  realize  that 
the  first  thing  a  mother  must  learn  is  to  place  her 
baby's  welfare  above  everything  else.  So  when 
Norman  told  her  he  was  going  to  retain  Miss  Reade 
for  a  couple  of  months  to  take  full  charge  of  the 
baby  and  prepare  his  food,  she  was  satisfied  with  the 
decision,  though  she  could  not  help  but  feel  that  now 
it  was  fate  that  was  cheating  her.  But  at  the  same 
time  she  did  not  take  it  as  seriously  as  she  might  have 
for  she  felt  that  at  the  end  of  the  two  months  she 
would  be  well  and  strong  and  better  fitted  to  do 
everything  for  the  baby  herself. 

The  room  adjoining  her  own,  a  lovely  sunny  one, 
had  been  done  over  and  transformed  into  a  nursery. 
Every  possible  convenience  had  been  installed,  and 
Miss  Reade  presided  over  it  all  with  perfect 
efficiency  and  regularity.  The  little  white  ivory  clock 
on  top  of  the  chest  of  drawers  with  its  tiny  wreaths 
of  pink  rosebuds  ruled  that  room  with  hands  of  iron. 
The  baby  was  fed,  bathed,  put  to  sleep,  exactly  by 
the  moving  of  that  clock's  hands. 

When  Norah  was  able  to  be  up  and  about,  it  was 
a  great  shock  to  her  to  learn  that  she  was  not  ex- 


218  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

pected  to  go  in  and  out  of  the  nursery  as  she  saw 
fit.  Miss  Reade,  always  smiling,  always  courteous, 
would  stop  her  at  the  door  with:  "Baby's  just 
having  a  nap,  Mrs.  Rogers,"  or  something  of  the 
sort.  The  first  two  or  three  times  it  happened 
Norah  was  so  surprised  she  was  unable  to  answer, 
but  as  soon  as  she  regained  composure,  her  indigna- 
tion came  to  her  defense.  She  opened  the  door  one 
morning  before  Miss  Reade  had  a  chance  to  stop 
her. 

"I'm  just  about  to  bathe  baby,  Mrs.  Rogers,"  the 
nurse  said,  a  little  put  out  at  Norah's  sudden 
entrance. 

"That's  fine,  Miss  Reade,"  Norah  replied.  "I'm 
just  in  time  to  watch  you.  It  will  be  good  for  me  to 
take  a  few  lessons." 

"But  Dr.  Rogers  said  you  were  not  to  be  bothered 
about  anything.  He " 

"Dr.  Rogers  evidently  underestimates  my 
strength.  I've  been  up  three  weeks,  and  I'm  feeling 
.exceptionally  well." 

"But  he  left  instructions  I  was  not  to  annoy  you." 

"Dr.  Rogers  has  already  left  the  house  this  morn- 
ing. I  am  the  one  to  give  instructions  here,  Miss 
Reade.  You  will  kindly  proceed  with  the  baby's 
bath."  Though  Norah  spoke  quietly,  her  heart  was 
thumping  madly. 

Miss  Reade  did  not  answer.  She  began  prepar- 
ing the  necessary  things,  but  it  was  plain  to  be  seen 
she  was  perturbed.  Norah  went  in  and  out 
of  the  nursery  as  often  as  she  pleased  that  day.  She 
watched  Miss  Reade  prepare  the  food  and  remained 
in  the  room  twice  while  baby  was  being  fed.  She 
had  not  thought  of  intentionally  trying  to  offend 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  219 

Miss  Reade,  but  she  felt,  as  the  baby's  mother,  it 
was  her  privilege  to  enter  his  room  whenever  she 
pleased,  and  besides  she  wanted  to  learn  from  ob- 
servation just  what  to  do. 

The  next  morning,  just  before  leaving,  Norman 
said  to  her:  "Dearest,  I  wouldn't  go  into  the  nursery 
so  much,  if  I  were  you." 

"Why  not?"  Norah's  voice  was  sharp,  high- 
pitched.  Its  very  curtness  should  have  warned  the 
physician-husband,  but  so  intent  was  he  on  doing  only 
the  physical  thing  necessary  for  his  wife  and  baby, 
that  he  passed  the  warning  unheeded. 

"Well,  first  of  all,  dear,"  he  explained  placidly,  in 
a  tone  that  might  have  bee^  used  in  monosyllabic  lan- 
guage to  a  child  that  must  be  made  to  understand, 
"you  know  it's  disconcerting  to  a  nurse  to  have  some- 
one standing  about.  Then  I  think  you  should  take 
care  of  yourself.  Baby  is  in  capable  hands,  so  why 
don't  you  let  Frances  order  the  car  and  take  you  for 
a  drive  into  town?  The  shops  will  no  doubt  interest 
you." 

"I'm  not  at  all  interested  in  the  shops,  Norman, 
and  as  the  one  who  stands  about  happens  to  be  the 
baby's  mother,  Miss  Reade  will  have  to  be  satisfied 
with  it  whether  she  likes  it  or  not!" 

"Just  as  you  say,  Norah,  but  I  would  be  a  little 
careful  about  offending  her.  She's  the  finest  baby 
nurse  I  know  of,  and  I'd  hate  to  see  her  leave."  He 
kissed  her  good-by  and  hurried  down  to  the  waiting 
car.  As  he  drove  into  town,  he  pondered  not  a  little 
over  Norah's  attitude.  She  had  never  attempted  to 
take  a  stand  like  that  before,  or  spoken  with  such 
decision. 

She  can  hardly  be  herself  yet,  he  reasoned,  and 


220  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

therefore  nervous.     He  dismissed  it  from  his  mind. 

Brooding  alone  in  sullen  silence  was  probably  the 
worst  thing  that  Norah  could  have  done;  yet  it  was 
what  the  days  came  to  have  in  store  for  her.  She 
could  hardly  wait  for  the  days  to  pass  so  that  Miss 
Reade  would  go  and  she  could  care  for  the  baby 
herself. 

"Why,  Norah,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with 
you?"  Susan  asked,  when  she  mentioned  the  matter 
to  her. 

Susan  had  come  over  to  spend  the  day  with  her 
sister,  and  incidentally  to  admire  all  her  young 
nephew's  lovely  presents. 

"Nothing  is  the  matter  with  me,  Susy, — I  just  in- 
tend taking  care  of  the  baby  myself." 

"But  when  you  can  have  a  regular  trained  nurse 
in  a  white  uniform  and  cap,  and  your  husband  insists 
upon  having  one,  you  must  be  crazy  not  to  grab  the 
chance."  To  Susan  it  seemed  an  unheard-of  thing 
for  anyone  to  reject  such  an  opportunity. 

"I've  lived  through  months  waiting  for  this  time," 
Norah  answered  dreamily,  "and  now  I  want  my 
reward." 

"And  to  think  I  was  tickled  to  death  to  have  old 
Mrs.  Ward  take  care  of  my  babies  and  help  with 
the  work  besides,"  mourned  Susan,  with  hands  held 
aloft  in  remonstrance.  "You  won't  think  it's  so  fine 
when  you  find  yourself  tied  down.  Caring  for  a  baby 
means  a  lot  of  work." 

"Work !"  Norah  dwelt  on  the  word.  "You  know 
how  much  I  always  loved  work,  Susy,  so  perhaps  you 
can  imagine  how  I  am  going  to  feel  about  a  labor  of 
love  such  as  this." 

"Well,  I  can't  argue  with  you,  Norah.  You've 
always  had  funny  notions  about  most  things." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  221 

"Why  is  it,  Susy, — oh,  why  is  it, — that  not  even 
my  own  sister  seems  to  understand  me?" 

"I'm  really  beginning  to  think  you're  terribly  un- 
grateful, Norah."  Susan  came  out  bluntly  with  her 
thoughts  before  she  realized  it.  "If  you  only  knew 
what  a  fortunate " 

"Susan  Grant!"  In  her  anger  Norah  forgot  how 
many  years  had  passed  since  her  sister  had  been 
Susan  Grant.  "If  you  or  anyone  else  tells  me  again 
how  fortunate  I  am,  I  shall  scream !" 

"You're  right  in  saying  I  don't  understand  you," 
Susan  said  acidly.  "Show  me  anybody  who  could! 
What  is  the  matter  with  you  anyway,  and  what  is  it 
I  don't  understand?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what's  the  matter  with  me!  I'll  tell 
you  what  you  don't  understand!"  Rapidly,  Norah 
began  to  pace  the  room,  her  stride  growing  fast  and 
faster  as  accompaniment  to  her  thoughts,  her 
temples  that  throbbed  held  tightly  between  her 
hands.  With  a  jarring  of  her  whole  overwrought 
body  she  came  to  a  sudden  stop  in  front  of  Susan. 
"I'm  sick  and  tired  of  it  all!  Sick  of  being  treated 
as  if  I  were  a  helpless  child!  Tired  of  being  told 
from  morning  till  night  how  fortunate  I  am  because 
I  have  a  few  decent  clothes,  a  car  to  ride  in,  and  a 
home  in  Burlingame!  What  you  don't  understand 
is  that  I  don't  want  luxury  and  ease  and  riches.  I'm 
craving  the  right  to  love  and  serve,  the  right  at  least 
to  think  for  myself!" 

"Norah!"  Susan  was  awe-stricken.  "You — 
you — frighten  me — I've  never  seen  you  in  a  temper 
like  this  before !  I'll  go  now  so  that  you  can  lie  down 

and  rest  before  Norman  comes,  unless "  and  in 

her  own  inability  to  understand,  she  stopped  as  her 
inadequate  brain  was  urged  by  a  big  heart  to  do  the 


222  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

right  thing  and  she  fumbled  for  it,  "unless  you  want 
me  to  stay?" 

"No;  go  ahead!"  Norah  was  calm  once  more, 
calm  with  the  realization  that  Susan  at  least  would 
never  reach  an  understanding  of  her  inmost  heart 
and  feelings.  "I  was  foolish  to  lose  my  temper." 

On  her  way  out,  Susan  stopped  in  the  garden  to 
see  Frances  who  was  giving  some  instructions  to  the 
gardener. 

"I  can't  imagine  what  has  happened  to  Norah," 
she  complained,  telling  her  of  what  had  occurred. 

"Norah  has  changed  a  great  deal  of  late,"  Frances 
answered,  with  a  sad  shake  of  her  head.  "Norman 
seems  to  think  it  is  sort  of  a  reaction  from  baby's 
birth;  but  I  don't." 

"Well,  then,  Frances,  what  do  you  think  it  is?" 
Susan  asked  anxiously. 

"I  don't  exactly  know,"  Frances  hesitated,  "but  I 
don't  think  we  have  exactly  understood  Norah." 

"That's  what  she  keeps  saying.  Why  doesn't 
Norman  ask  her  what  she  means? — he's  her  husband 
and  it's  his  right  to  know." 

"Norman  is  the  only  one  who  doesn't  seem  to  see 
a  change,"  sighed  Frances.  "He  only  sees  her  with 
the  eyes  of  a  physician  and  puts  it  all  down  to 


nervousness." 


"I'm  kind  of  worried  about  her "  Susan  was 

plaintive.  "I'll  telephone  in  the  morning  and  see 
if  she  wants  me  to  come  over.  If  not,  I'll  wait  until 
Sunday  and  bring  Jack.  He'll  know  just  what  to 
say."  And  Susan  left,  her  mind  fully  made  up  that 
Jack  was  the  right  person  to  take  Norah  in  hand. 

Three    days   before    Miss    Reade   was    to   leave, 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  223 

Norman  announced  that  he  had  engaged  the  services 
of  an  excellent  woman  to  take  her  place. 

"Mrs.  Warren  hasn't  had  quite  as  much  ex- 
perience as  Miss  Reade,"  he  informed,  as  they  were 
seated  at  the  table  finishing  their  dinner.  "But  she 
came  to  me  highly  recommended  and  I  am  sure  she'll 
take  hold  nicely." 

"When  did  you  engage  this  woman?"  Norah 
asked  calmly,  but  with  the  sort  of  deadly  calm  that 
precedes  a  storm. 

"This  afternoon,"  answered  her  husband.  "She 
came  to  me  from  Dr.  Crest.  I  knew  Miss  Reade 
would  be  going  soon  and  I  was  anxious  to  find  some- 
one to  take  her  place." 

"Don't  you  think,  Norman,  that  I  should  have 
been  consulted  as  to  who  should  care  for  my  baby?" 

"What  nonsense,  Norah!"  he  laughed  good- 
naturedly.  "What  do  you  know  about  nurses,  or 
what  they  can  do?  After  I  put  a  few  questions  to 
them  it  doesn't  take  me  long  to  discover  whether  or 
not  they  are  capable." 

"I  don't  doubt  for  a  moment  that  you  are  an  ex- 
cellent judge — but  just  the  same  I  am  afraid  you 
will  have  to  ask  Mrs.  Warren  not  to  come." 

"Not  to  come?  Why,  surely,  Norah,  you  should 
be  able  to  trust  me  to  select  the  right  sort  of  person. 
You  must  remember  that  I,  too,  have  the  welfare 
of  the  baby  at  heart." 

"I'm  not  objecting  to  Mrs.  Warren  because  I 
think  she's  incompetent,"  she  answered,  as  she  rose 
from  the  table  and  walked  toward  the  door.  "I 
have  simply  made  up  my  mind  not  to  have  anyone, 
as  I  intend  taking  care  of  my  baby  myself !" 

She  was  out  of  the  room  as  she  uttered  the  last 


824  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

word,  and  before  the  really  astonished  husband  could 
find  words  for  a  reply.  It  had  come  so  suddenly, 
unexpectedly. 

All  the  slow-paced  way  upstairs  she  exulted  that 
at  last  she  had  found  the  courage  to  speak. 

She  fully  expected  to  hear  Norman  come  running 
up  after  her,  anxious  to  have  her  tell  him  what  it  was 
all  about.  When  he  did  not  appear  she  smiled;  a 
wry  little  smile,  as  she  thought  he  had  probably  been 
so  surprised  he  was  unable  to  move.  Not  for  one 
moment  did  she  believe  that  any  true  significance 
could  have  been  borne  in  on  him.  She  was  through 
with  hoping  for  that. 

Norman  was  surprised,  too,  so  much  so  that  he 
turned  to  Frances  as  soon  as  he  heard  Norah's  door 
close. 

"Frances,"  he  asked  helplessly,  "what  do  you  sup- 
pose is  the  matter  with  her?  What  do  you  suppose 
is  wrong  with  her?  What  could  she  have  meant?" 

"Probably  what  she  said,  Norman."  Frances 
could  not  restrain  a  slight  smile  at  the  comical  ex- 
pression on  her  brother's  face, — it  was  so  truly 
masculine  and  when  did  any  man  ever  solve  the  com- 
plexity of  the  feminine,  or  the  feminine  complex. 
"She  does  not  intend  to  have  a  nurse  for  the  baby." 

"But  that's  the  craziest  thing  I  ever  heard  of,"  he 
broke  in,  querulously.  "What  does  she  know  about 
the  care  of  a  baby?" 

"A  great  many  women  take  care  of  their  own 
babies,  Norman,  and  none  of  them  knew  how  until 
they  learned." 

"That's  all  very  well  and  good  when  they  have  to 
do  it,"  he  answered.  "Besides,  Norah's  only  a  child 
herself." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  225 

"Norah  is  a  woman,  Norman." 

"Oh,  I  know  of  course,  she's  a  woman  in  years," 
he  answered,  still  impatiently.  "But  just  the  same, 
she's  a  child  in  experience." 

"What  about  her  working  from  the  time  she  was 
twelve  years  old?"  asked  Frances.  "Don't  you 
think  that  was  enough  to  make  a  woman  of  her?" 

"You  may  be  right,  Frances,  but  to  me  she's  just 
a  child, — to  be  loved  and  cared  for." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  Frances  answered 
slowly.  "Sometimes  I'm  afraid  we've  made  a 
mistake." 

"A  mistake!  In  loving  her?  Why,  you  always 
gave  me  to  understand  y6u  loved  her " 

"I  do  love  her,  Norman."  Frances  said  it  in  all 
sincerity,  even  as  there  flashed  before  her  mind's  eye 
the  time  when  Norah  had  told  her  she  hated  her. 
She  had  willingly  forgiven  her,  but  she  had  been 
wounded  so  deeply  that  the  wound  had  never  quite 
healed.  "I  do  love  her,  but  just  the  same  I  believe 
we've  made  a  mistake  in  treating  her  as  if  she  were 
some  hot-house  plant." 

"What  in  the  world  makes  you  say  a  thing  like 
that?" 

"I  don't  know,  Norman,  but  I  feel  as  if  we  were 
on  the  verge  of  a  crisis." 

"You  must  have  some  reason  for  such  a  state- 
ment." 

"No, — just  my  woman's  intuition." 

And  again  she  smiled,  with  the  age-old  wisdom  of 
those  who  have  smiled  thus  from  the  beginning  of 
time, — and  bowed  to  the  superior  knowledge  of 
intuitions. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

NORAH  was  at  her  escritoire  writing  when 
Norman  came  in  after  his  puzzling  talk  with 
Frances. 

"Go  right  ahead,  dear,"  he  told  her,  as  she  put 
down  her  pen  and  turned  around. 

"It  can  wait,"  she  answered.  "It  is  just  a  letter  I 
have  owed  Doris  for  a  long  time;  I  was  writing  with 
an  idea  of  occupying  my  mind  more  than  anything 
else." 

He  came  over  and  attempted  to  put  his  arms 
about  her.  "I'm  glad  you're  feeling  better,  dear." 

"Feeling  better?"  Involuntarily  she  pulled  away 
from  him  and  shrugged  as  she  crossed  over  to  the 
rocker.  "I  don't  know  what  you  mean!  I'm  per- 
fectly well." 

"I  mean  I'm  glad  you've  recovered  from  that  little 
attack  of  nerves  you  were  suffering  from  down- 
stairs." 

"So  that's  what  you  think  is  the  matter  with  me?" 
she  replied  calmly.  She  seemed  about  to  say  more, 
but  the  words  had  not  been  formed  before  she  had 
thought  better  of  it.  Abruptly  she  changed  the  sub- 
ject. "Norman,  I  hope  that  you  understand  that  I 
meant  what  I  said  regarding  a  nurse?" 

"Now,  now,  darling,"  he  tried  to  soothe. 
"You're  not  to  work  yourself  up  over  anything!  I 
tell  you  what  I'll  do;  I'll  send  Mrs.  Warren  out  to 

226 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  227 

see  you  to-morrow  and  you  shall  have  a  talk  with  her 
yourself.  If  she  doesn't  suit  you,  we'll  get " 

"Norman!"  she  interrupted  sharply.  "I  told  you 
clown  stairs  that  I  would  not  have  a  nurse  at  all !  I 
firmly  intend  to  do  for  my  baby  myself." 

"This  is  quite  ridiculous,  Norah."  His  voice  had 
never  been  so  stern  before,  but  it  was  music  to  her 
ears,  compared  with  the  gentle,  soothing  tones  he 
had  been  adopting.  "In  the  first  place,  I  don't  con- 
sider you  capable  of  assuming  the  full  charge  of  an 
infant,  and  in  the  second  place  you  are  by  no  means 
strong  enough  to  be  confined  to  the  house  like  that." 

For  just  the  length  of  time  it  took  Norah  to  seat 
herself  directly  in  front  of  him,  straight  and  erect 
in  her  spindle  chair,  prepared  to  state  her  case, — this 
time  so  that  there  might  be  no  slightest  chance  for  a 
mistake  on  the  part  of  the  man  who  would  not  under- 
stand, she  hesitated.  Slowly,  deliberately,  measuring 
each  word,  considering  its  effect,  she  began  to  speak. 

"I  shall  answer  each  of  those  statements  sep- 
arately so  that  you  will  see  how  little  we  agree, 
Norman,"  she  started,  her  hands  lying  apparently 
listless  in  her  lap,  but  so  tightly  clenched  that,  had 
the  man's  attention  been  on  them,  he  would  have 
noted  the  small  white  spots  on  the  knuckles.  "If  I 
am  not  capable  of  taking  care  of  my  baby,  then  I  am 
not  capable  of  being  a  mother  at  all.  You  should 
have  considered  that,  Norman,  before  you  married 
me.  As  to  my  not  being  strong,  I  can't  imagine 
where  you  ever  obtained  the  idea  that  I  am  a  weak- 
ling. I  came  from  a  family  of  the  strongest, 
healthiest  people,  on  both  sides.  My  father  was 
never  sick  a  day  in  his  life  until  the  week  before  he 
died;  and  outside  of  mother's  stroke,  you  know  what 


228  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

her  condition  was.  My  great-grandfather,  Samuel 
Craig,  lived  to  be  almost  a  hundred." 

"You  can't  compare  the  people  of  to-day  with  the 
older  generations,"  he  began,  but  she  went  right  on 
without  paying  the  slightest  heed  to  the  interruption. 

"And  look  at  my  own  sister  and  brother!  When 
Susy  was  six  she  had  the  measles.  Aside  from  that 
the  only  times  in  her  life  she  has  remained  in  bed 
from  illness  was  when  the  children  were  born.  And 
Jimmie !  Why  Jimmie's  only  complaint  that  I  know 
of  since  he  was  born  was  a  tooth-ache.  I'm  exactly 
like  them,  Norman, — strong  and  healthy  as  I  can 
be,  despite  the  fact  that  you  have  done  your  utmost 
to  make  me  otherwise." 

"Why,  Norah!"  He  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 
"You  talk  as  if  I  were  unkind  to  you;  as  if  I  were 
trying  to  hurt  you." 

This  was  too  much!  Was  he  determined  not  to 
see, — to  know!  She  could  not  sit  there  looking  at 
him.  Wearily  she  rose  to  cross  and  pause  in  front 
of  the  window  from  which  only  the  twinkling  lights 
in  the  long  driveway  broke  through  the  blackness  of 
the  moonless,  tree-shadowed  night.  Slowly  she  turned 
to  pace  the  length  of  the  room,  once,  twice,  thrice. 
Words  were  weighed  carefully  before  she  turned  and 
faced  her  husband.  A  striking,  cyclonic  change  had 
come  over  her.  Drawn  to  her  fullest  height,  her 
cheeks  aflame,  her  eyes  sparklingly  brilliant,  she  was 
like  a  young  queen  facing  the  multitude,  in  defense 
of  her  throne.  Even  in  the  intensity  of  the  moment, 
Norman  could  not  help  but  notice  how  beautiful  she 
was. 

"No,  Norman,  you  have  never  been  unkind  to 
me."  Her  voice  was  vibrant  with  emotion.  "I 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  229 

almost  wish  that  you  had  been !  I  know  that  your 
motive  in  everything  that  you  have  done  to  me  has 
been  prompted  only  by  a  sincere  desire  to  be  very 
kind,  and  yet  you  have  hurt  me  a  thousand  times 
more  than  if  you  had  actually  plunged  a  knife  into 
my  heart!" 

"Norah!  Norah!"  As  he  listened,  his  face  grew 
as  chalky  as  though  that  same  weapon,  too,  had 
pierced  him  to  let  the  life  blood  flow  out.  "You — 
you  don't  know  what  you're  saying!  You " 

But  Norah  only  raised  her  hand  imperiously  for 
silence. 

"Please,  Norman,  you  must  hear  me  through! 
Now  that  I  have  taken  thexstep,  you  must  be  made  to 
see  just  what  I  mean." 

"Go — on,"  he  said,  his  voice  low,  husky. 

"In  the  first  place,"  she  began  again,  now  that  the 
storm  had  passed,  once  more  at  ease,  voice  calm,  low- 
pitched,  though  clearly  vibrant,  "you  knew  how  I 
had  always  felt  about  marrying.  I  had  fully  decided 
upon  my  future,  when  my  mother  fell  ill,  and  you 
came  into  my  life.  There  is  no  use  of  going  into  all 
the  details  of  how  I  came  to  change  my  mind, — you 
know  them  just  as  well  as  I  do.  You  told  me  that 
love  was  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world,  and  when  I 
finally  realized  I  loved  you  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul,  I  felt  that  you  must  be  right.  You  expressed 
yourself  freely  as  to  the  duties  of  a  married  woman, 
and  I  felt  assured  that  although  I  was  giving  up  my 
life's  ambition,  it  was  to  assume  a  greater  role, — that 
of  a  successful  wife  and  mother!" 

"You're  a  wonderful  wife,  and " 

"  'A  wonderful  wife' !"  A  sneer  involuntarily 
curled  her  lip.  "I've  been  a  pretty  doll  to  you, — 


230  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

something  to  array  in  expensive  gowns,  to  decorate 
with  beautiful  jewels,  to  wrap  in  luxurious  furs,  to 
be  paraded  about  in  a  costly  limousine, — but  a 
wife, — a  real  partner,  to  share  your  thoughts,  your 
ambitions,  to  help  construct  our  lives  together, — 
never, — never!  I  tell  you  I  have  never  been  that 
to  you!" 

"I  loved  you  so,  dear — I  loved  you  so!  I  felt  as 
if  I  could  never  do  enough  for  you."  There  was 
something  pitifully  pathetic  in  his  eager  defense. 

Norah  paused  to  let  her  eyes  bore  into  his  own. 
She  could  not  see  the  agony  in  them, — too  intent  was 
she  on  the  recounting  of  her  own  wrongs,  fancied  or 
not,  nevertheless  real. 

"You  loved  me!"  she  repeated,  mechanically. 
"So  that  was  why  you  robbed  me, — yes,  I  mean  it, — 
robbed  me  of  every  bit  of  independence  I  ever 
possessed, — yes,  even  to  the  extent  of  being  allowed 
to  think  for  myself.  Between  you  and  Frances  you 
bought  all  my  clothes,  even  to  the  most  intimate 
articles;  you  decided  upon  what  books  I  should  read; 
what  plays  I  should  see;  what  concerts  I  should  hear. 
There  have  been  times  I  have  hated  myself  so  that  I 
could  not  bear  to  look  in  the  glass, — hated  myself 
for  my  weakness  in  submitting  to  such  humiliation!" 

Norman's  head  dropped  into  his  hands,  as  a  groan 
escaped  through  his  drawn  lips. 

"And  all  I  cared  about,  Norah,  was  your 
happiness!"  he  begged.  Never  had  he  imagined  any- 
thing like  this. 

But  Norah  was  going  on,  as  relentlessly  as  an 
avenger. 

"When  I  asked  you  for  an  allowance,"  she  con- 
tinued, her  one  thought  to  unburden  her  heart  of  the 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  231 

weight  it  had  carried  so  long,  "I  wouldn't  have  cared 
if  it  had  been  ten  dollars  a  month.  I  wanted  the  in- 
dependence of  knowing  that  there  would  be  a 
stipulated  amount  for  each  month." 

"Norah,  dear,  surely  you  cannot  say  I  have  not 
been  generous  with  you " 

"I'm  not  complaining  about  your  generosity, 
Norman.  It  is  your  method  of  bestowing  it  with 
which  I  find  fault.  Why,  every  time  that  you  thrust 
a  bill  into  my  purse  I  felt  as  if  you  had  insulted  me. 
I  am  your  wife,  Norman  Rogers, — not  your 
mistress!" 

"Norah!"  At  last  his  anger  was  aroused.  "I'll 
not  allow  you  to  talk  that^way  to  me!  I  don't  de- 
serve it!" 

"I  have  very  little  more  to  say,  so  whether  you 
deserve  it  or  not,  I  want  you  to  hear  it,"  she 
answered  quietly.  "I've  never  touched  one  penny  of 
that  money."  She  walked  to  the  escritoire,  unlocked 
the  drawer  and  placed  the  package  of  bills  on  the 
table.  "It  would  have  burned  my  fingers.  Only 
once  I  decided  to  use  it, — before  baby  came,  because 
I  felt  I  had  not  the  right  to  prevent  you  from  paying 
for  that  little  outfit.  And  even  then  you  and  your 
sister  deprived  me  of  that  one  great  joy." 

"I  told  you  at  the  time  how  badly  I  felt  about 
that,  Norah,  and  I  tried  to  make  amends." 

"Yes, — as  usual  by  humoring  me  as  you  would  a 
spoiled  child.  The  thing  that  has  sustained  me  all 
this  time  has  been  the  thought  that  I  could  do  as  I 
pleased  with  my  baby,  and  now  you  are  trying  to 
prevent  that,  even." 

"Very  well,  Norah,"  he  answered  resignedly. 
"We  won't  have  the  nurse;  it  shall  be  as  you  say." 


232  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"You  know  you  don't  mean  that,  Norman,"  she 
said,  sadly.  "You  want  a  nurse  here,  and  you  will 
see  that  you  get  one.  You  think  it  will  be  best  for 
the  time  being  to  humor  me,  and  in  the  end  you  ex- 
pect to  gain  your  point, — as  you  have  always  done." 
She  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Norman,  I — I  can't  go  on  any  longer." 

"Why, — I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Norah!" 

"I  mean  that  I  have  brooded  over  these  things  so 
long  that  if  I  don't  get  back  my  self-respect  I  shall 
lose  my  reason,  or  perhaps  do  something  desperate. 
I  want  to  leave  you,  Norman." 

It  came, — the  final  thing, — in  such  a  sudden  rush 
of  words,  and  so  without  previous  warning  that  he 
thought  he  could  not  have  heard  correctly. 

"You — you — what?"  he  stammered. 

"I  want  to  leave  you,"  she  repeated,  still  as 
calmly,  steadily.  "I  want  to  go  back  again  on  my 
own  and  build  up  everything  within  me  that  you  have 
torn  down." 

"And  I — I  thought  that  you  loved  me!"  His 
voice  was  hollow,  but  for  the  life  of  him  he  could 
utter  no  other  words  than  these  banal,  inadequate 
ones.  Even  as  his  tongue  gave  them  utterance,  as  his 
brain  searched  about  for  what  to  do  in  the  crisis,  the 
wife  who  had  dealt  the  blow  was  going  on. 

"I  did  love  you,  Norman;  I  still  love  you.  But 
something  seems  to  have  died  in  me,  and  my  only 
salvation  lies  in  getting  away  from  the  scene  of  my 
suffering." 

"Just  what  do  you  intend  to  do,  Norah?"  In  the 
question  there  was  no  tinge  of  anger;  only  a  sort  of 
dull  despair. 

"I  don't  know  exactly.     Mr.  Thome  told  me  I 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  233 

could  always  come  back, — that  no  matter  how  many 
he  had  in  the  office,  he  would  always  make  room  for 
me." 

"Norah,  do  you  really  intend  leaving  me?  Are 
you  thinking  about  a  separation,  or — divorce?" 

"Oh,  no,  I've  never  thought  of  that,  Norman.  I 
just  want  to  get  away  by  myself, — to  be  free  to 
think, — to  try  to  regain  all  that  I  have  lost." 

"Suppose,  dear,  we  both  get  away  from  every- 
thing for  a  while,  and  try  to  start  all  over  again  by 
ourselves.  I  should  like  to  go  East  for  about  two 
months.  There's  to  be  an  important  convention  in 
New  York,  and  then  I'd  like  to  go  to  Baltimore  on 
some  research  work." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  would  like  me  to  go  with 
you?" 

"Yes,  Norah, — I  think  you  would  enjoy  it. 
You've  never  been  East,  you  know,  and  it  would 
mean  the  change  you're  craving." 

"I'm  not  craving  that  sort  of  a  change.  And  what 
about  baby?" 

"Why,  I  can  persuade  Miss  Reade  to  remain  a 
couple  of  months  longer,  I'm  sure,  and  between  her 
and  Frances,  baby  will  be  well  taken  care  of.  What 
'did  you  intend  doing  about  him  when  you  decided  to 
go?"  he  added,  abruptly. 

"Taking  him  with  me,  of  course." 

"Did  you  consider  for  a  moment  that  I  might 
have  something  to  say  about  that,  Norah?  After 
all,  you  must  admit  I'm  the  baby's  father." 

"You — you  wouldn't  prevent  me  taking  him?" 

"No, — I  wouldn't, — if  you  could  show  me  how 
you  intended  caring  for  him  and  working  for  Mr. 
Thorne  at  the  same  time.  Since  you  object  so 


234  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

strenuously  to  nurses,  you  naturally  wouldn't  employ 
one, — and  you  couldn't  very  well  take  the  baby  with 
you." 

"I — I'll  manage — somehow!"  she  answered 
wildly.  How  was  it  he  always  managed  to  check- 
mate her  at  every  turn ! 

For  ten  minutes  he  sat  very  still,  thinking  pro- 
foundly, as  Norah  knew  from  the  knitting  of  his 
fine  brows  when  she  allowed  her  glance  to  stray 
from  the  ivory  brush  with  which  she  was 
monotonously  tap-tapping  on  the  glass  top  of  her 
dressing  table,  to  where  he  sat.  He  rose,  to  come  to 
her;  to  lay  his  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder  which  felt 
so  warm  and  lovely  beneath  its  clinging  blue  crepe 
'de  chine  and  lace  draping. 

"Norah,"  he  asked,  "let  us  talk  this  all  over  sen- 
sibly and  see  if  we  can't  arrange  some  sort  of  a — a 
compromise.  After  all,  dear,  I've  never  inten- 
tionally hurt  you,"  brokenly,  "and  I  don't  want  to 
lose  you  without  a  struggle." 

"Norman,  I — I'm  sorry  to  make  you  suffer, 
but " 

"Please  hear  me  out.  Suppose  we  retain  Miss 
Reade  for  a  couple  of  months  and  I  go  East  myself. 
During  that  time  you  will  be  free  to  go  wherever  you 
please, — say,  down  to  visit  your  brother,  or  over  to 
Susan's  or  with  some  of  our  friends, — but  away  from 
here.  You'll  know  that  baby  will  be  given  the  best 
of  care,  and  your  leaving  him  would  be  the  same  as 
if  you  came  East  with  me.  I  just  want  you  to  take 
two  months  in  which  to  think  things  over,  and  if  at 
the  end  of  that  time  you  still  feel  as  if  you  would  be 
happier  away  from  me,  I  shall  be  satisfied  to  abide 
by  your  decision." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  235 

"How  about  my  returning  to  Mr.  Thorne  or  any 
other  position?" 

"I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  do  that  until  the  two 
months  are  up.  It  is  just  a  little  humiliating  to  me 
to  have  my  wife  working  in  an  office.  I'll  settle  a 
monthly  allowance  on  you,  unless  you  are  deter- 
mined not  to  use  my  money,  and  in  that  case  I  take  it 
you  still  have  enough  of  your  own  to  get  along  on 
for  that  length  of  time?" 

"I  have  plenty.  I've  required  little  actual  cash, 
and  I  had  a  fairly  nice  bank  account  from  my — my 
independent  days."  She  could  not  refrain  from 
emphasizing  the  last  two  words. 

He  smiled  faintly.  '^Vell,  then,  how  does  my 
proposition  suit  you?" 

"It  is  fair,  Norman,"  she  answered  frankly.  "In 
two  months  things  may  appear  differently  as  you  are 
inclined  to  believe,  although  I  tell  you  quite  honestly, 
I  doubt  it.  I  feel  that  I  must  accomplish  the  thing  I 
once  set  out  to  do." 

"You  may  be  right,  Norah,  so  I  won't  attempt  to 
argue  with  you,  for  after  all, — even  though  you  may 
not  believe  it, — the  only  thing  to  me  that  counts  is 
your  happiness." 

Frances  accepted  the  news  of  the  arrangement 
without  betraying  surprise.  She  had  expected  a 
crisis  of  some  kind.  Better  this  than  many  another. 

A  week  later  Norman  Rogers  left  for  New  York. 
Aside  from  Frances,  there  were  few,  if  any,  who 
could  have  imagined  how  greatly  this  strong  man, 
endowed  with  such  wonderful  physical  and  mental 
powers,  was  suffering.  Never  for  an  instant  did  he 
betray  his  emotions  to  Norah.  After  his  first  dis- 
play of  weakness  during  the  crucial  talk,  pride  had 


«36  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

come  to  his  rescue.  It  sustained  him  prior  to  the  day 
of  his  departure.  But  it  was  a  crushed  and  low- 
spirited  man  who  boarded  the  Overland  Limited  one 
morning.  He  loved  his  wife  with  a  love  that  knew 
no  limits,  and  to  think  that  he  had  lost  her, — through 
no  wrong  he  had  done, — only  through  a  lack  of 
understanding, — caused  him  mental  anguish  almost 
too  great  to  bear.  He  had  bidden  her  a  quiet  fare- 
well, but  he  tried  to  convey  in  his  words  a  little  of 
how  much  he  cared  for  her.  "Good-by,  dear.  May 
God  bless  and  protect  you,  my  little  lost  treasure." 
And  he  was  gone. 

Norah  kept  swallowing  hard  and  choking  back 
her  tears  as  she  busied  herself  with  preparations 
for  her  own  trip.  She  had  not  imagined  the  break 
would  be  so  hard.  But  then  the  severing  of  any 
close  ties,  whether  advisable  or  not,  were 

She  intended  leaving  for  Los  Angeles  that  night 
for  a  two  weeks'  visit  with  Jimmie  and  Doris.  Then 
she  would  spend  a  week  or  ten  days  with  Susan, 
afterward  going  to  Dr.  Bradbury  for  the  remainder 
of  her  probation,  as  she  termed  it  to  herself. 

Both  she  and  Norman  had  decided  to  keep  every- 
thing to  themselves  until  they  reached  their  final  de- 
cision. Frances  was  the  only  one  who  was  aware  of 
the  true  state  of  affairs.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  had  kept  silent,  not  even  attempting  to  inter- 
cede for  her  brother's  happiness.  She  would  have 
given  all  she  possessed  to  ha~ve  brought  about  a 
reconciliation,  but  from  the  one  experience  she  had 
had  with  Norah,  and  sensing  that  her  sister-in-law 
resented  everything  she  said  or  did,  she  felt  that  this 
was  one  time  when  silence  would  be  golden. 

Norah  went  into  the  nursery  for  a  final  look  at 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  237 

her  baby  boy.  She  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the 
crib,  but  tier  eyes  were  so  filled  with  tears  she  was 
blinded  as  she  gazed  at  the  sleeping  infant.  "Only 
will  be  for  a  little  while,  darling!  Mother  will  come 

back  for  you "  she  whispered,  as  she  patted  the 

soft,  warm  coverlet. 

As  she  walked  to  the  waiting  limousine  with 
Frances,  the  elder  woman  hesitated  a  moment,  then 
offered,  slowly,  apologetically:  "Norah,  dear,  I  want 
you  to  know  I  am  very  sorry  for  any  unhappiness  I 
may  have  caused  you.  I  meant  everything  for  the  best. 
I  love  you,  dear,  and  may  God  hear  my  prayer  and 
send  you  back  to  us  again."  She  turned  quickly  back 
to  the  house  before  Nor^h  had  a  chance  to  reply,  or 
to  see  the  tears  that  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 

On  the  train  after  dinner,  Norah  Rogers  sat  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  into  the  darkness.  She  was 
free  to  do  absolutely  as  she  pleased  for  two 
months, — such  a  wonderful  thing  to  know, — and  yet 
the  exultation  she  had  anticipated  was  not  there.  It 
was  probably  because  she  was  so  tired,  so  exhausted 
physically  and  mentally,  she  tried  to  believe.  The 
past  week  had  been  most  difficult.  She  thought  of. 
everyone  at  home  and  wondered  what  they  were  do- 
ing. Glancing  at  her  plain  little  wrist-watch,  ,a  relic 
of  the  gone  days,  she  saw  that  it  was  just  eight 
o'clock.  Miss  Reade  had  put  baby  to  bed  long  ago, 
and  was  sitting  under  the  reading  lamp  with  a  maga- 
zine. (She  could  see  it  all  plainly  before  her.) 
Frances  was  in  the  upstairs  sitting  room,  either  writ- 
ing letters  or  knitting  a  sweater.  Norman  was 

The  aching  little  twinge  in  her  heart  caused  her  to 
swallow  hard  as  she  picked  up  the  novel  at  her  side 
and  opened  it  at  random. 


238  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

In  another  train,  a  man  on  the  observation  plat- 
form stood  smoking  his  cigar. 

"What  a  beautiful  moon  to-night!"  someone  next 
to  him  exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  Dr.  Rogers  answered,  as  he  glanced  up. 
But  what  he  was  seeing  was  a  woman's  piquant  face, 
with  its  wealth  of  curling  dark  hair;  its  sapphire 
eyes, — his  Norah ! 

Jimmie  was  waiting  for  Norah  at  the  station  in 
the  morning. 

"Hello,  Sis, — awfully  glad  to  see  you!"  He 
kissed  her  heartily.  "Sorry  Doris  couldn't  come  to 
meet  you.  She  had  to  be  on  the  lot  early  this  morn- 
ing,— going  out  on  location." 

"That's  all  right,"  Norah  answered,  a  bit  puzzled 
as  to  the  meaning  of  lot  and  location.  "She  mustn't 
think  of  standing  on  ceremony  with  me.  I  want  it 
understood  at  once  that  I'm  not  company." 

"We  don't  intend  to  treat  you  as  company,"  he 
answered  as  he  assisted  her  into  what  he  was  pleased 
to  term  his  "classy  little  sport  model"  of  a  car. 
"You're  just  to  be  one  of  us  while  you're  here 
How's  everybody  at  home?" 

"All  fine,  Jimmie.  Were  you  surprised  to  hear 
I  was  coming?" 

"A  little — especially  when  you  wrote  you  were 
coming  alone." 

"I  told  you  Norman  had  to  go  East  for  the  con- 
vention." 

"Doris  was  in  hopes  you'd  bring  the  baby.  She's 
crazy  about  them!" 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  239 

"He's  a  little  too  young  to  bring,  and  we  have  a 
splendid  nurse,"  she  answered. 

"Like  to  come  over  to  the  studio  with  me  and 
watch  them  work?"  he  asked,  as  they  alighted  in 
front  of  his  attractive  cottage,  "or  would  you  prefer 
resting  until  Doris  returns?" 

"I  think  I'd  rather  rest  to-day.  You  know, 
Jimmie,  this  is  the  first  real  journey  I  have  ever 
taken,  so  I'm  tired." 

"All  right,  then.  I  don't  know  how  long  Doris 
will  be  gone — most  likely  all  day  if  she's  on  loca- 
tion— but  Annie  will  take  care  of  you." 

A  neat  little  maid  led  the  way  upstairs  to  the 
comfortable  guest  room. 

"See  that  Mrs.  Rogers  has  everything  she  wishes, 
Annie,"  Jimmie  shot  out  after  them.  "I'll  have  to 
go  back  to  the  studio.  Your  trunk  should  get  here 
very  soon,  Sis;  the  transfer  people  said  they  would 
bring  it  right  out.  Hope  you'll  be  comfortable." 

"Stop  fussing  about  me,  Jimmie,  and  hurry  back 
to  your  work,"  Norah  laughed.  "I  shall  get  along 
nicely  until  you  return." 

At  five  Doris  hurried  up  the  walk  to  the  lovely 
woman  she  saw  in  the  porch  swing. 

"I  know  this  must  be  Norah,"  she  greeted  her. 
"I'm  Doris,  and  I'm  so  glad  to  have  you  with  us." 

"Doris,"  Norah  kissed  her  affectionately,  "my 
little  sister.  You're  so  much  prettier  than  your 
photograph." 

"Do  you  think  so?  I'm  sorry  I  had  to  be  out 
when  you  arrived.  Did  you  pass  the  day  all  right?" 

"I  rested,  unpacked  my  trunk,  had  a  nap  and 
read."  Then:  "Let  me  look  at  you,  Doris."  She 


240  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

stepped  back  while  Doris  laughed  and  turned  around 
for  inspection.  And  she  was  lovely,  a  dainty, 
spirituelle  blonde,  fair  as  a  lily  and  with  a  tinge  of 
delicate  pink  in  either  cheek. 

"You're  not  pretty  at  all,  Doris,"  her  sister-in- 
law  announced  suddenly.     "You're  beautiful!" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IT  all  seemed  so  strange,  so  wrong,  to  Norah, 
that  she  should  be  such  a  stranger  to  this  little 
girl  who  had  for  years  been  the  wife  of  her 
brother;  families  should  not  be  so  divided.  Essen- 
tially home-loving,  home-folk  loving  as  girl  and 
woman,  she  had  never  been  able  to  understand  how 
the  members  of  her  family  could  voluntarily  leave 
one  another.  Of  course  Jimmie  had  gone,  but  it 
had  never  been  with  the  \intention  of  drifting  so  far 
away  from  them  all  as  h£  had.  Norah  had  always 
felt  a  pang  of  pity  for  those  separated  brothers  and 
sisters  of  fiction  or  the  screen  who  must  be  separated 
when  they  are  children,  never  to  be  united  until 
maturity  when  by  the  nature  of  things  they  arc  in- 
evitably strangers. 

Now,  with  a  pang  for  herself,  she  realized  for  the 
first  time  how  nearly  this  pictured  her  own  case. 
Here  was  she  with  a  beautiful  sister-in-law,  a  woman 
nearer  and  dearer  to  Jimmie  than  she,  Norah,  had 
ever  been, — and  she  had  never  before  even  aeen 
her! 

While  Doris  was  changing  her  dress,  Norah  sat 
in  the  girl's  room  and  talked  with  her.  She  was 
anxious  for  a  real  acquaintanceship,  a  sisterliness, 
with  this  relative  she  had  known  only  through  her 
letters.  Jimmie  had  written  such  a  lot  about  his 
wife,  her  talent,  her  ambitions;  but  to  Norak  the 
finest  thing  he  had  ever  said  in  her  favor  had  been 

241 


242  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

said  in  the  automobile  that  morning  when  he  had  re- 
marked, carelessly:  "Doris  is  crazy  about  babies." 

"I  hope  you  are  going  to  like  Hollywood, 
Norah."  Doris  paused  in  the  middle  of  brushing 
her  long,  luxuriant  hair  that  glinted  gold  in  the 
dying  sunlight.  "We're  going  to  do  our  very  best  to 
make  it  pleasant  for  you." 

"I  know  I'm  going  to  like  it,"  Norah  answered. 
"It  is  such  a  pretty  little  place.  As  we  were  driving 
here  from  the  station  I  told  Jimmie  I  had  never  seen 
so  many  attractive  bungalows." 

"My  friends  are  likely  different  from  the  people 
you're  used  to  associating  with,"  explained  Doris, 
"but,"  she  hastened  to  add,  loyally,  "they're  very 
nice.  You  know  everyone  we  know  is  connected 
some  way  with  the  picture  game." 

"I  never  paid  much  attention  to  pictures  until  we 
had  a  little  movie  queen  in  our  own  family,"  Norah 
smiled,  "but  now  I  read  all  the  magazines  and  news 
connected  with  screenland  that  I  can  put  my  hands 
on." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  of  one  thing."  There  was  a 
slight  bitterness  in  Doris'  laugh.  "You  never  read 
anything  startling  about  me.  I  doubt  if  you  ever 
read  anything  at  all."  She  twisted  savagely  at  the 
burnished  coil  she  was  winding. 

"I  understand  that  it  often  takes  years  of  hard 
work  to  make  a  success  in  pictures,  so  you  must  be 
patient.  Your  time  will  surely  come."  Norah  sensed 
a  disappointment,  but  ignored  it  as  she  reassured. 

During  dinner  the  telephone  bell  rang  incessantly; 
first  it  was  for  Doris;  then  Jimmie;  then  all  over 
again.  Norah  gathered  from  the  drift  of  the  con- 
versation that  they  were  refusing  invitations,  explain- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  243 

ing  that  they  were  remaining  home  so  that  Mrs. 
Rogers,  their  guest,  might  rest  that  first  evening. 

"Now,  please  don't  break  any  engagements  for 
me,"  Norah  begged.  "I  want  you  to  act  just  as  if 
I  were  not  here.  I  can  write  some  letters  and  then 
go  to  bed." 

"Nonsense!"  Jimmie  answered.  "We're  going  to 
spend  this  evening  at  home.  It  will  be  a  novelty  for 
us.  We  haven't  stayed  home  for  a  month.  Never 
fear,  we'll  keep  you  on  the  go,  after  this.  Have  to 
show  you  the  sights  of  Hollywood." 

But  they  weren't  destined  to  spend  a  quiet  eve- 
ning at  home.  Jimmie  and  Doris  moved  in  a  circle 
of  people  who  believed  in  being  thoroughly  sociable. 
They  dropped  in  at  all  times  quite  informally,  and 
never  dreamed  of  apologizing  for  any  lateness  of 
hour.  So  it  was  that,  at  ten-thirty,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Vance,  Violet  Vining,  Beatrice  West,  Frank  Castle 
and  Edwin  Deland  dropped  in  on  their  way  to  the 
country  club. 

"We're  chaperoning  the  kids,"  Mrs.  Vance,  a 
tall,  red-headed  woman  who  never  walked,  but  always 
glided  about,  announced,  "and  thought  maybe  you'd 
like  to  join  us." 

"Thanks,  Amy!  It  was  good  of  you  to  stop  for 
us,  but  we're  staying  in  to-night.  I  want  you  to 
meet  my  sister,  Mrs.  Rogers,  from  San  Francisco." 

For  the  first  few  minutes  of  the  new-comers'  visit, 
Norah  could  only  know  bewilderment.  What  they 
were  saying  was  all  so  strange  to  her,  and  they  all 
seemed  to  talk  at  once.  They  were  all  picture  people 
of  small  importance,  she  gathered,  though,  doing 
extra  work,  like  Doris.  To  her  conventional  mind, 
everything  about  them  appear^  unreal  and 


244  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

exaggerated.  Mrs.  Vance,  for  instance,  seemed  to 
be  posing  continually;  the  two  girls  were  silly,  harm- 
less little  flappers,  over-bleached,  over-rouged,  and 
over-dressed.  The  men  were  of  the  happy-go-lucky, 
good  fellow  type  who  manage  to  keep  going  without 
ever  arriving  at  any  definite  place. 

Norah  studied  them  all,  placing  each  in  his  or  her 
own  groove,  as  she  sat  in  a  comfortable  easy  chair, 
listening  to  their  prattle.  It  was  all  so  new,  so 
foreign  to  her,  that  she  could  not  help  but  be 
interested. 

"Still  working  in  'Jocelyn's  Folly,'  Doris?" 
Violet  Vining  asked,  more  bent  on  powdering  her 
nose  and  fluffing  her  hair  than  in  caring  to  know 
about  Doris'  activities. 

"Yes,"  Doris  answered.  "It  will  be  about  a 
month  before  we  shoot  the  final  scenes." 

"I  should  think  you'd  be  bored  to  death,  dearie," 
Mrs.  Vance  drawled,  gliding  over  to  the  table  and 
lighting  a  fresh  cigarette,  "doing  such  an  uninterest- 
ing bit  for  so  long  a  time." 

Doris  flushed.  "I  like  it,"  she  answered,  "because 
it  gives  me  an  opportunity  to  watch  Renee  Nelson 
work.  She's  the  greatest  artist  on  the  screen." 

"Anybody  could  be  an  artist  with  John  Holden  in 
back  of  her,  and  a  wardrobe  that  would  knock  you 
silly,"  Beatrice  said  knowingly. 

"Oh,  do  be  fair,  Bee!  You  must  admit  that 
Renee  can  act.  I  think  she  was  wonderful  in  'The 
Reward.'  Did  you  see  her,  Mrs.  Rogers?"  Violet 
asked  suddenly,  turning  to  Norah. 

"I'm  ashamed  to  confess  that  I've  seen  very  few 
pictures  recently.  I  saw  Miss  Nelson  about  a  year 
ago.  I've  forgotten  the  name  of  the  picture,  but  I've 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  845 

never  forgotten  her,"  was  the  answer.  "I  think  as 
you  do,  Miss  Vining.  She  is  a  wonderful  actress  and 
I'm  not  surprised  to  hear  that  so  many  men  arc  in 
love  with  her — she's  so  beautiful,  too." 

"ReneVs  got  a  great  press  agent,"  laughed  Mr. 
Vance,  "and  when  John  Holden  gets  behind  anyone, 
he  or  she  is  made." 

"Do  you  suppose  he's  in  love  with  her?"  Mrs. 
Vance  asked.  "Everyone  says  he  is." 

"I  suppose  he  is,"  came  the  answer. 

"Are  they  going  to  be  married?"  Norah  was  sur- 
prised at  herself  for  her  forwardness,  she,  who 
usually  remained  in  the  background. 

"Possibly, — if  they  cari<)vercome  a  couple  of  little 
obstacles  like  a  husband  on  her  side,  and  a  wife  on 
his!"  Vance  laughed  at  what  seemed  to  him  a  huge 
joke.  The  shocked  expression  on  Norah's  face 
brought  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"Shouldn't  tell  tales  out  of  school,  Vance,"  Jimmie 
warned.  "You'll  shock  my  sister  so  she'll  not  care 
to  meet  any  of  our  friends." 

"Oh,  everything  is  perfectly  proper  in  our  little 
crowd,  Mrs.  Rogers,"  Vance  hastened  to  assure  her. 
"It  is  only  where  our  celebrities  are  concerned  that 
you  are  apt  to  hear  wild  stories." 

"I  suppose  you've  been  reading  all  about  our 
Hollywood  scandals?"  Mrs.  Vance  asked,  as  she 
dropped  languidly  on  a  couch,  the  cigarette  held  be- 
tween her  languid  fingers,  from  one  of  which 
sparkled  her  huge  dinner  ring. 

"No,  I  haven't  read  much,  but  my  sister  Susan 
always  manages  to  keep  me  well  informed." 

Jimmie  laughed  heartily. 

"And  what  Susan  doesn't  hear  or  read  about,  she 


246  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

doesn't  hesitate  to  imagine.  She's  some  girl, — that 
kid  sister  of  ours !  You'll  all  meet  her  this  summer. 
She's  coming  down  with  the  boys." 

"What  boys?"  Violet  had  a  vision  of  adding  a 
few  more  beaus  to  her  string. 

"Her  children,"  Norah  answered  simply,  though 
she  suppressed  a  smile  of  understanding. 

"Oh,  is  she  married?" 

"Susan's  been  Mrs.  Long  for  about  seven  years." 

"An  old  married  woman;  nothing  thrilling  about 
that,"  Frank  Castle  chimed  in.  "I  thought  when  you 
spoke  of  your  kid  sister,  Jimmie,  you  were  referring 
to  some  fascinating  baby  doll." 

"I  should  think  you  could  keep  busy  enough  tak- 
ing care  of  all  the  dolls  you're  going  about  with  now 
without  looking  for  new  ones,"  Beatrice  pouted. 

"All  right,  darling,  your  slave  kneels  at  your  feet 
once  more,"  and  he  dropped  to  the  floor  and  gal- 
lantly raised  her  fingers  to  his  lips. 

"Oh,  Frank,  you're  wasting  your  ability  in  the 
studio,"  Beatrice  complimented  in  a  drawl,  trying  to 
look  serious.  "Really  you  should  be  playing  romantic 
drama  on  Broadway." 

"If  these  good  people  are  not  going  to  join  us,  I 
move  we  start  for  the  club."  Mrs.  Vance  rose  and 
began  pulling  on  her  cape. 

"There's  not  any  real  harm  in  one  of  them, 
Norah,"  Jimmie  hastened  to  explain  after  their 
guests  had  departed. 

"I  didn't  think  there  was,"  Norah  smiled  back. 
"I  want  you  both  to  know  that  I  haven't  come  down 
here  with  the  intention  of  criticizing  your  friends. 
I'm  sure  I'll  like  them  all." 

"Norah!"    Doris    didn't    wait    for    Jimmie    to 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  247 

answer.  "I'm  very  anxious  to  have  you  come  to  the 
studio  with  me.  I  want  you  to  meet  the  real  Renee 
Nelson,  not  the  woman  you  heard  discussed  here  to- 
night." 

And  Norah  did  meet  Renee  Nelson  and  Rita 
George  and  Edith  Lester  and  a  great  many  other 
famous  people  of  the  screen,  both  men  and  women, 
and  in  meeting  them  she  was  given  one  of  the  real 
surprises  of  her  life.  The  foundation  crumbled 
away  rapidly  from  beneath  the  many  untruths  she 
had  heard  and  read  in  connection  with  them.  In- 
stead she  found  a  little  colony  of  cultured,  intelligent 
men  and  women,  working  hard  and  faithfully  to  give 
amusement  to  the  pleasure-seeking  public — those 
very  people  who  in  turn  listen  eagerly  to  any  kind  of 
gossip  and  stand  ready  to  believe  the  worst  about  the 
people  of  the  screen,  without  investigating  the 
veracity  of  the  scandal-mongers  or  giving  a  chance 
for  defense  of  names  and  reputations. 

And  in  the  background  of  most  of  the  lives  of 
these  men  and  women,  Norah  was  to  discover,  there 
was  so  often  the  worthy  motive  of  putting  the  best 
of  their  lives  into  an  effort  to  produce  the  best  pic- 
tures within  their  strength  and  ability.  This  was  an 
aspect  of  the  movie  game  she  had  never  found 
flashed  upon  the  screen. 

There,  first  and  foremost,  was  Renee  Nelson, — 
Renee,  whose  popularity,  fame  and  beauty  had 
placed  her  in  one  of  the  first  places  in  the  realm  of 
the  theater  and  had  linked  her  name  unpleasantly 
with  that  of  John  Holden,  famous  producer.  After 
her  introduction,  she  graciously  invited  Norah  to 
have  tea  with  her  on  Wednesday,  as  they  would  be 
doing  minor  scenes  that  day  and  she  would  not  be 


248  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

needed.  Norah  went  alone,  as  Doris  had  to  remain 
at  the  studio.  Miss  Nelson's  home  was  a  beautiful 
bungalow  of  Spanish  architecture,  handsomely  fur- 
nished. 

"How-do-you-do,  Mrs.  Rogers?"  Miss  Nelson 
held  out  her  hand.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you.  We'll  go 
out  on  the  sun  porch, — my  husband  is  out  there." 
She  led  the  way  to  a  large,  glassed-in  room,  fitted 
with  reed  furniture,  potted  palms  and  plants.  A  man 
about  twenty-eight,  pale  and  thin,  was  lying  back  in 
a  wheel  chair.  That  he  must  have  been  a  very  hand- 
some man  before  his  illness,  was  evident  at  a  glance. 
He  looked  up,  his  eyes  filled  with  a  mute  adoration, 
as  his  wife  came  up  with  Norah. 

"Dickie  Boy,  I  want  you  to  know  Mrs.  Rogers. 
She's  the  little  lady  I  was  telling  you  about  who  is 
visiting  here  from  San  Francisco." 

"Mrs.  Rogers,  it  is  very  good  of  you  to  sit  out 
here  with  me  instead  of  having  tea  in  the  famous 
Chinese  room,"  he  chuckled,  adding,  "perhaps 
you've  seen  what  our  worthy  press  agent  has  outdone 
himself  to  say  about  it.  Renee  says  this  is  your  first 
visit  to  Hollywood  and  your  first  insight  into  studio 
activities?"  His  voice  held  a  query. 

"Yes,  it  is,  Mr. "  Norah  hesitated,  em- 
barrassed. 

"Mr.  Wheeler,"  Renee  laughed.  "I  always  say 
Dickie  Boy  and  imagine  everyone  should  guess  the 
rest." 

Norah  passed  a  delightful,  never-to-be-forgotten 
afternoon.  She  found  Renee  Nelson  Wheeler,  the 
sweet  unassuming  girl  in  the  simple  little  organdie 
house  frock,  quite  a  different  person  from  the  bcauti- 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  249 

ful  Renee  Nelson  the  public  at  large  knew.  She 
seemed  to  have  but  one  thought  in  mind,  and  that 
was  to  do  something  to  add  to  the  comfort  of 
Richard  Wheeler,  the  husband  she  idolized. 

Norah  did  not  exactly  recall  how  it  came  about. 
Norah  Rogers  had  always  owned  that  sympathetic 
quality  which  urged  impulsive  confidences,  but  be- 
fore either  of  them  realized  it,  she  was  in  possession 
of  Renee  Wheeler's  real  story,  a  tale  she  would 
cherish  her  life  long. 

Renee  and  Dickie  Boy  had  been  engaged  to  be 
married.  She  had  been  living  with  her  widowed 
mother  and  playing  extra  parts  in  different  studios, 
when  the  war  had  taken  Dickie  Boy  overseas.  She 
had  gone  on  struggling  for  success  and  recognition, 
but  praying  above  all  else  for  her  sweetheart's  safe  re- 
turn. He  had  come  back,  but  oh,  how  different  from 
the  man  she  had  sent  over, — the  perfect  specimen  of 
health  and  strength  who  had  answered  the  call  of 
his  country.  He  had  wanted  to  release  her,  but  she 
loved  him,  she  told  Norah  simply,  and  as  though  it 
were  the  answer  to  all  things.  So  it  was  she  who 
insisted  on  an  early  marriage. 

Then  had  come  the  great  miracle!  At  least  it 
seemed  one  to  her.  John  Holden,  the  most  famous 
producer  in  Hollywood,  found  one  day  that  Helen 
Nelson,  Renee's  mother,  had  once  been  Helen  Hast- 
ings, his  first  sweetheart,  in  that  time  so  long  ago, 
back  in  Wisconsin.  He  had  never  forgotten  her. 
Recognizing  Renee's  exceptional  talent  and  being 
anxious  at  the  same  time  to  do  something  for  the 
woman  whose  memory  had  ever  remained  dear  to 
him,  he  engaged  Renee  Nelson,  as  the  public  knew 


250  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

her,  and  as  he  usually  accomplished  whatever  he  set 
about  to  do,  it  was  not  long  before  Renee's  position 
was  established  throughout  the  country. 

"He  and  I  are  great  friends,"  Mr.  Wheeler 
added,  after  his  wife  had  completed  her  part  of  the 
interesting  narrative.  "He  spends  a  lot  of  his  time 
here.  His  wife  is  quite  a  society  matron  and  he  does 
not  care  about  that  sort  of  thing  at  all." 

"If  they  can  overcome  a  couple  of  little  obstacles 
like  a  husband  on  her  side,  and  a  wife  on  his,  etc." 
Norah  burned  with  indignation  as  she  thought  of 
what  she  had  heard  only  a  few  nights  previously. 
And  what  she  had  heard  was  probably  a  story  that 
was  broadcasted.  How  ready  people  were  to  believe 
ill!  Well,  she,  for  one,  knew  the  truth  about  this 
glorious  woman.  Just  let  anyone  malign  her  in  the 
presence  of  Norah  Rogers! 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  Rita  George,  Norah  found  another  charming 
girl,  caring  for  her  grandparents  whom  she  had 
established  on  a  farm  in  Sonoma  County;  engi- 
neering two  young  brothers  through  a  military  school, 
and  trying  at  the  same  time  to  achieve  her  life-long 
ambition  to  become  a  novelist.  She  had  never  had 
much  chance  for  an  education  as  a  child,  and  she  was 
occupying  every  minute  spent  away  from  the  studio 
in  pursuit  of  the  knowledge  she  had  always  craved. 

Edith  Lester,  the  best  known,  most  talked  about 
vampire  in  the  entire  picture  business,  was  a  won- 
derful little  mother,  working  with  her  heart  and 
soul  to  raise  her  three  lovely,  fatherless  children. 

So  it  went,  from  one  to  another  as  Norah  came 
to  know  the  heart  of  Hollywood.  Of  course  there 
were  exceptions.  There  always  are  in  all  walks  of 
life,  but  those  transgressors  who  are  not  living  be- 
fore the  public  can  slide  by  in  safety,  as  those  can- 
not whose  daily  doings  are  served  up  for  a  morbid 
public's  insatiate  appetite.  But  Norah  Rogers  was 
lucky  enough  not  to  be  thrown  in  contact  with  the  un- 
worthy. 

To  her  great  disappointment,  after  a  short  time 
in  the  movie  center,  her  life  focused  on  movie  people, 
she  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  the  only  ones 
who  failed  her  were  her  own  brother  and  his  wife. 

It  did  not  take  her  long  to  realize  that  Doris  was 
a  little  simpleton.  True  it  was  that  on  that  first 

251 


252  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

evening  she  had  impressed  Jimmie's  sister  not  only 
as  beautiful,  but  sweet  and  loyal,  especially  when  she 
had  taken  it  on  herself  to  defend  Renee  Nelson.  But 
in  a  couple  of  days,  Norah  saw  her  as  she  was,  a 
shallow,  foolish  little  thing  who  hadn't  succeeded  or 
risen  in  the  profession  simply  because  of  lack  of 
ability,  despite  the  fact  that  Jimmie  considered  her 
an  unrecognized  artist.  After  meeting  a  few  of  the 
worthwhile  women  in  the  studios,  Norah  Rogers 
recognized  that  it  took  more  than  mere  beauty  to 
create  a  star. 

One  evening  Jimmie  came  home  much  excited. 

"What  do  you  suppose  happened  to-day?"  he 
asked,  as  they  sat  down  to  dinner.  It  was  quite  by 
accident  that  they  were  not  having  guests  or  going 
somewhere  to  dinner. 

"Can't  imagine,  I'm  sure,"  Doris  unfolded  her 
napkin,  "but  I  hope  it's  something  good." 

"Good!  Wait  till  you  hear  it.  I  bet  you'll  say 
it's  good!  Well,  for  the  last  two  or  three  days  I 
noticed  a  fine-looking,  middle-aged  man  going  about 
the  studio  with  Mr.  Chester,  our  scenario  editor. 
This  afternoon  while  they  were  rehearsing  the 
cabaret  scene  this  same  man  comes  along  and  stands 
off  in  a  corner  looking  on.  All  of  a  sudden  he  turns 
to  one  of  the  boys,  and  I  heard  him  ask:  'Who's 
that  beautiful  little  blonde  sitting  at  the  third  table?' 
Then  I  looked  over  and  saw  he  meant  you,  Doris." 

"Me?"  Doris,  all  excitement,  paid  no  attention  to 
grammar. 

'That's  Doris  Webster,  one  of  the  extras,'  I 
heard  the  boy  answer.  Then  I  walked  over  and 
started  talking  to  this  man,  kind  of  anxious  to  find 
why  he  was  so  interested  in  you." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  2o3 

"And  did  you  find  out?" 

"I  sure  did!  He  was  admiring  your  looks, — 
that's  all.  Then  I  told  him  I  was  your  husband,  and 
that  you  had  all  kinds  of  talent,  but  had  never  had 
the  chance  to  show  what  you  could  do.  Well,  what 
do  you  suppose  he  did?"  Jimmie  paused  long 
enough  to  pick  up  the  carver  and  start  to  carve  the 
roast. 

"Well,  what  did  he  do?"  It  was  Norah  who 
asked  the  question  this  time.  "It's  exasperating  the 
way  you  draw  things  out,  Jimmie." 

"He  told  me  he  was  looking  for  a  beautiful, 
talented  girl  to  star  in  a  picture  he  intends  producing 
in  the  East.  He  had  justxrome  out  to  give  a  lot  of 
girls  the  once  over.  Had  two  or  three  in  mind,  but 
you  suited  him  best  so  far." 

"Oh,  Jimmie,  I  should  say  that's  wonderful 
news!"  Doris  pushed  aside  her  plate,  too  excited  to 
attempt  to  eat,  her  eyes  like  twin  stars. 

Jimmie  went  on.  "Then  he  said  he  would  like  to 
have  a  talk  with  you  and  wanted  me  to  call  you,  but 
I  told  him  you  couldn't  leave  the  set  just  then,  and 
besides  that  was  a  most  unsatisfactory  way  to  have 
a  talk.  So  I  invited  him  out  here  for  dinner  to- 
morrow night, — and  he  accepted." 

"Great!"  Doris  jumped  up  and  ran  over  to  throw 
her  arms  about  her  husband's  neck.  "I'll  be  a  star  at 
last !  My  chance  has  come !  My  chance  has  come !" 

"Better  not  count  your  chickens  before  they're 
hatched."  Jimmie's  wet  blanket,  as  usual,  had  to 
appear.  "It  may  be  all  right,  but  you  never  can  tell. 
I've  had  too  many  disappointments.  But  we'll  try 
it,  anyhow.  Didn't  we  have  some  sort  of  an  engage- 
ment for  to-morrow  night?" 


254  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Yes,  we  were  to  go  to  the  Vance's  for  dinner." 

"Well,  just  call  them  up  to-night  or  in  the  morning 
and  call  it  off."  Jimmie  had  no  scruples  when  it 
came  to  breaking  engagements.  "Business  before 
pleasure,  you  know." 

Norah  sat  through  the  conversation,  trying  hard 
to  analyze  what  it  all  meant.  For  some  reason  she 
lost  her  appetite  as  she  listened,  toying  with  her 
food.  They  drove  into  Los  Angeles  that  evening  to 
attend  a  play  at  the  Morosco,  and  all  through  the 
performance  her  thoughts  kept  reverting  to  that  table 
talk.  There  was  an  indescribable  something  about 
it  that  irritated  her.  Later  when  they  returned 
home  and  she  had  retired  for  the  night,  she  could 
not  sleep;  not  only  were  her  thoughts  occupied  with 
Jimmie  and  Doris,  but  there  was  a  dreadful  feeling 
of  homesickness  to  conquer.  She  had  experienced  it 
each  day  while  she  had  been  there,  but  had  forced 
herself  through  sheer  will-power  to  throw  it  off. 
This  was  a  nice  way  to  begin  to  stand  by  the  courage 
of  her  convictions,  she  told  herself  again  and  again, 
trying  to  throw  it  off.  But  to-night,  it  refused  to  be 
ignored. 

A  baby  in  a  crib ;  his  little  face  flushed  writh  sleep ; 
his  moist  ringlets  clustered  close  to  his  tiny  head;  an 
adorable  little  fist  doubled  under  his  chin;  flashed 
before  her.  The  kaleidoscope  shifted.  A  tall  man, 
stooping  beside  her  own  image  would  gather  her 
tenderly  in  his  arms  while  he  whispered  again  and 
again:  "Wonderful  little  mother!  I  love  you, — I 
love  you!"  Scene  after  scene,  they  slipped  by,  only 
to  repeat;  her  own  story,  her  very  own,  reel  after 
reel,  flashed  by  just  as  other  pictures  she  had  been 
watching  on  the  silver  sheet  had  flashed. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  25* 

Oh,  it  was  terrible, — lying  there  in  the  darkness, 
conjuring  them  up.  Once,  almost  asleep,  she  cried 
aloud,  but  smothered  the  sound  beneath  the  blankets 
as  she  remembered  Jimmie  and  Doris  were  in  the 
next  room.  When  she  finally  fell  asleep,  well  near 
morning,  it  was  only  to  toss  restlessly,  and,  awaken- 
ing a  few  hours  later,  her  pillow  was  wet  with  tears. 

It  took  Doris  over  an  hour  to  dress  for  dinner  that 
evening.  Three  times  she  changed  her  gown;  her 
hair  she  re-arranged  still  oftener. 

"Norah!"  she  exclaimed,  bursting  into  her  sister- 
in-law's  room  for  the  third  time.  "Don't  you  think 
this  looks  better  than  the  pink?  Now,  please  tell  me 
frankly,  because  I  want  to  make  an  extra  fine  im- 
pression to-night!" 

"You  look  lovely,  Doris,"  she  answered  with 
sincerity,  gazing  admiringly  upon  the  vision  of 
beauty  in  the  delicate  orchid  georgette  crepe  frock 
with  its  crushed  girdle  of  silver  ribbon,  "but  you 
looked  just  as  well  in  the  yellow,  or  in  the  pink 
dress." 

"There  was  something  about  them  both  that  did 
not  quite  satisfy  me."  Doris  dropped  down  on  a 
chair  near  the  window  and  picked  up  Norah's  buffer 
from  the  dresser. 

"It's  your  over-anxiety  that  makes  you  feel  that 
way,"  Norah  assured  her,  putting  the  finishing 
touches  to  her  own  toilet,  a  smart  little  creation  of 
green  metallic  cloth. 

"Yes,  that's  always  the  way,"  Doris  used  the 
buffer  as  vigorously  as  though  she  were  polishing  the 
kitchen  stove.  "That's  a  beautiful  gown  you  have 
on,  Norah.  I  bet  it  cost  a  lot?" 

"I  really  don't  know  the  price,"  was  the  truthful 


256  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

answer.  "It's  one  Norman  (it  was  queer  that  every 
time  she  mentioned  that  name  she  should  feel  the 
sharp  little  pang)  bought  me  some  time  ago." 

"It  must  be  wonderful  to  have  a  husband  buy 
things  for  you  without  your  even  knowing  the  price." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you  there,"  Norah  empha- 
sized. "I  think  it  makes  one  entirely  too  dependent." 

"I  used  to  feel  that  way  about  it,  but  I'm  getting 
bravely  over  it."  Doris  gave  a  little  shrug  of  her 
shoulders.  "I'm  beginning  to  think  that  the  woman 
who  has  a  husband  to  provide  for  her  is  mighty  for- 
tunate." 

Norah  drew  her  chair  up  close  to  Doris  and 
asked  earnestly:  "Why  don't  you  let  Jimmie  take 
care  of  you,  then,  dear?" 

"He  couldn't  do  it  on  what  he's  earning, — that  is, 
not  the  way  we  like  to  live,  and  then  again,  I'm  bound 
to  succeed  in  my  career,"  she  added,  crossing  over 
to  the  mirror  and  eyeing  herself  critically.  "If  it's 
up  to  me,  I'll  be  a  star  before  you  know  it.  I'm 
going  to  begin  rehearsing  how  to  vamp  to-night." 

"Oh,  dear,  I  wish  you  wouldn't!"  Norah's  voice 
was  pleading.  Only  too  well  she  knew  from  the 
girl's  tone  that  it  was  no  jocular  comment  she  was 
making.  The  little  clicking  sound  of  Doris'  teeth 
as  they  snapped  shut  on  the  words  proved  her  in 
earnest. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Norah!"  There  was  an  im- 
patient note  in  Doris'  own  voice.  "I  know  just  how 
far  to  go." 

"Doris !"  Norah  changed  the  subject  as  they 
walked  down  the  stairs  together.  "Jimmie  told  me 
you  were  crazy  about  babies." 

"Babies!"  The  transformation  in  the  girl's  voice 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  257 

was  so  evident  that  Norah  turned  to  look  at  her  in 
surprise.  There  was  a  softened  expression  in  her 
face,  a  maternal  light  in  her  eyes  that  enhanced  her 
beauty  tenfold.  "I  adore  babies, — why " 

The  ringing  of  the  doorbell  halted  what  she  was 
about  to  say,  but  not  before  Norah  had  been  given  a 
new  insight  into  the  girl's  character. 

Mr.  Burnett  arrived  promptly  at  six-thirty.  He 
was  a  short,  stout  man  with  a  rather  prominent  nose 
and  deep-set  eyes.  He  possessed  a  certain  aggressive- 
ness of  manner  that  one  invariably  recognized  after 
conversing  with  him  for  a  few  moments.  Wherever 
the  pronoun  "I"  could  be  employed,  Mr.  Burnett 
never  failed  to  make  use  of  it.  During  the  dinner  he 
told  them  of  the  various  enterprises  in  which  he  was 
interested.  It  didn't  take  long  for  him  to  make 
known  to  them  that  fact  of  which  he  was  obviously 
most  proud, — that  he  was  a  man  of  abundant  means. 
Jimmie  shot  a  quick  glance  across  at  his  wife  which 
she  caught  and  acknowledged  with  a  barely  percep- 
tible nod  of  her  head,  but  not  before  Norah  had  wit- 
nessed and  interpreted  the  little  scene.  She  felt  the 
blood  mount  to  her  cheeks  as  she  blushed  with  morti- 
fication. To  think  that  her  brother  had  stooped  to 
anything  as  cheap  as  this!  Shame  made  the  hot 
blood  mount  higher  until  it  seemed  fairly  ready  to 
burst  through  the  tender  skin  of  her  tortured  cheeks. 
It  reminded  her  much  of  a  scene  in  a  play  she  had 
gone  to  many  years  ago  in  the  Mission,  where  the  ad- 
venturess and  her  husband,  a  confidence  man, 
planned  to  rob  their  victim  of  his  money  right  before 
his  eyes. 

Mr.  Burnett  gradually  unfolded  his  plans. 

"I've  dabbled  about  in  almost  every  other  busi- 


258  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

ness,"  he  boasted,  "so  thought  I'd  have  a  try  at  this. 
A  friend  of  mine  back  in  Philadelphia  has  a  picture 
he's  anxious  to  produce,  but  he  hasn't  any  money,  so 
he  came  to  me  to  supply  the  capital.  There's  only 
one  way  I'll  supply  it,  I  told  him,  and  that  is,  if  I 
have  a  hand  in  the  thing  myself.  So  I  came  to  Los 
Angeles  to  pick  up  some  pointers  in  your  moving 
picture  game,  and " 

"Don't  blame  you,  Mr.  Burnett,"  Jimmie  broke  in 
before  his  guest's  sentence  was  completed.  "Nothing 
like  hanging  around  yourself  to  see  what  they're 
doing  with  your  money." 

"It  isn't  that  so  much!  I've  money  in  a  dozen 
things  I  know  nothing  about  and  care  less;  but  this 
seemed  like  a  chance  for  a  little  excitement.  They 
gave  me  the  job  of  selecting  the  girl  to  play  the  lead, 
so  I  thought  out  here  I'd  see  if  I  couldn't  find  a 
California  beauty." 

"There  are  a  great  many  beautiful  actresses  here; 
with  widely  known  reputations,"  Norah  ventured  to 
remark. 

Both  Jimmie  and  Doris  shot  'dagger  glances  in  her 
direction,  but  apparently  she  didn't  notice  them.  If 
for  a  moment  they  felt  that  Norah's  care- 
less suggestion  (they  never  dreamed  of  her  having 
an  object  in  what  she  said)  had  jeopardized  their 
chances,  Mr.  Burnett's  next  remark  dispelled  it. 

"No,  Mrs.  Rogers,"  he  said,  maintaining  his  air 
of  importance,  "I  don't  want  any  of  these  here  well- 
known  women.  I've  decided  to  discover  a  real  star 
myself  and  launch  her  before  the  public." 

Long  before  Mr.  Burnett  left  the  house,  Doris 
was  encouraged  over  her  own  prospects.  The  blunt 
man  was  honest  when  he  assured  her  her  charms 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  259 

more  completely  met  his  requirements  than  anyone 
else  he  had  seen. 

"Your  coloring  is  perfect,  Mrs.  Grant, — or  Miss 
Webster, — which  shall  it  be?"  he  laughed. 

"Miss  Webster  around  the  studio,  and  Mrs. 
Grant  at  home."  Doris  giggled  as  she  slanted  her 
eyes  languorously  at  him  in  the  most  approved  screen 
vampire  manner.  "But  to  my  friends  I'm  just 
Doris."  Norah  sickened  as  she  saw  the  attempt  of 
her  sister-in-law  to  be  coy. 

"Well,  I  haven't  earned  the  right  to  be  classed 
among  the  latter  yet,"  Mr.  Burnett  responded, 

"but "  He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  his 

eyes  were  on  the  blond  beauty  of  Doris,  his  thick 
hand  not  irresponsive  to  the  light  touch  of  her  soft 
fingers. 

"But  I  think  you  have,  Mr.  Burnett."  It  was 
Jimmie  who  took  it  upon  himself  to  answer  for  his 
wife.  "By  coming  here  to  our  little  home  when  you 
might  have  gone  to  a  regular  party." 

"All  right,  then, — if  you  say  so  it  shall  be  Doris 
from  now  on,"  Mr.  Burnett  agreed.  "I'll  be  proud 
to  have  you  consider  me  your  friend.  I'll  earn  the 
right  later." 

Three  thoughts,  so  poignant,  so  full  of  meaning 
that  the  wonder  was  they  did  not  shriek  themselves 
aloud  as  they  flashed  unseen,  unheard,  about  that 
table,  were  known  by  two,  sensed  by  the  one  who 
should  not  have  been  interested. 

"Oh,  he  must  mean  something  by  that;  maybe  I'm 
the  one  he'll  decide  on." — Doris.  "Looks  like  the 
old  fellow  means  business." — Jimmie.  "How  dis- 
gusting it  all  is !" — Norah. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THREE  days  passed,  and  Burnett  had  not 
reached  a  decision.  Jimmie  heard  he  was 
interviewing  aspirants  and  twice  he  approached 
him  on  the  subject,  but  was  unable  to  obtain  a 
definite  answer. 

A  letter  arrived  one  morning  from  Frances.  She 
told  Norah  all  about  how  beautifully  the  baby  was 
doing,  all  the  news  she  thought  might  interest  her, 
and  concluded  by  saying  that  Florence  Granville  had 
left  for  Los  Angeles  a  few  days  before  and  was 
stopping  at  the  Ambassador  Hotel.  She  was  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walton,  also  friends  of  Norah's. 
Mrs.  Granville  and  her  niece  had  never  appealed 
strongly  to  Norah,  but  she  was  fond  of  Florence, 
and  knowing  she  was  so  near,  she  decided  to  telephone 
her.  As  she  lifted  the  hook  from  the  telephone  in 
the  upstairs  hall,  she  heard  Doris'  voice  and  knew 
she  was  using  the  downstairs  connection.  She  was 
about  to  hang  up  when  something  Doris  was  saying 
attracted  her  attention. 

"I  should  so  like  to  see  you  alone,  if  possible,  Mr. 
Burnett.  There  is  something  I  want  to  say  to  you." 

"I'll  be  glad  to  come  out  any  time  you  say,  Doris." 

"I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't  be  very  convenient  here. 

My  sister-in-law  is  usually  about "  Norah 

blushed  and  a  feeling  took  possession  of  her  that 
perhaps  she  was  wearing  out  her  welcome, — "Why 
can't  you  meet  me  for  tea  this  afternoon  at  the 

260 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  261 

Cherry  Blossom  Inn?  It's  a  handy  place,  and  we 
can  have  a  quiet,  uninterrupted  chat." 

"All  right — I'll  come.  What  time?"  was 
Burnett's  quick  reply. 

"Say,  four  o'clock.  Just  tell  your  taxi  driver  the 
Cherry  Blossom  Inn.  And  don't  tell  anyone  you're 
coming  to  meet  me.  I — I  wouldn't  want  to  have 
my  husband  hear  of  it "  There  was  such  unmis- 
takable meaning  in  her  voice  that  Burnett  laughed. 

Norah  didn't  wait  to  hear  any  more.  She  hurried 
back  to  her  room.  What  to  do?  That  was  the 
puzzling  question.  If  she  went  downstairs  and  con- 
fronted Doris,  telling  her  exactly  what  she  had 
heard,  she  knew  Doris  would  accuse  her  of  eaves- 
dropping and  refuse  to  listen  to  advice.  It  was  a 
situation  she  knew  required  delicate  handling.  Once 
she  decided  to  wait  until  it  came  time  for  Doris  to 
go,  and  then  try  to  detain  her  on  some  pretext  or 
another;  then  finally  when  she  considered  the  time 
ripe,  tell  her  the  truth  and  do  her  best  to  reason  with 
her.  If  she  really  had  anything  important  to  talk 
over  with  Mr.  Burnett,  she  would  convince  her  that 
her  home  was  the  proper  place  for  the  meeting. 

At  half-past  three  that  afternoon  she  was  sitting 
in  the  living  room  reading,  wondering  why  Doris 
had  not  come  down  yet  to  start  for  her  rendezvous. 
She  would  probably  be  late,  as  the  Inn  was  quite  a 
way  out.  When  Jimmie  came  in  the  front  gate, 
Norah  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  This  would  settle 
the  whole  thing.  Doris  would  never  be  able  to  go, 
now. 

"Hello,  Norah!"  He  threw  his  cap  on  the  chair 
in  the  hall  and  a  bundle  of  papers  on  another  chair 
in  the  living  room.  Just  like  our  boy,  Jimmie,  at 


262  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

home,  thought  Norah,  and  the  lump  that  was  becom- 
ing so  familiar  rose  in  her  throat. 

"Aren't  you  home  earlier  than  usual,  Jimmie?" 
Norah  put  aside  her  book. 

"Yes,  I've  got  to  go  out  with  a  couple  of  boys  on 
a  private  job  of  wiring  an  inn  for  some  new  lighting 
effects." 

The  only  word  that  Norah's   ears   caught  was 


"inn. 


"Oh, — what — inn  is  it,  Jimmie?" 

"Why, — why,  the  Cherry  Blossom."  He  was 
surprised  at  the  question,  but  Norah's  heart  almost 
stood  still  for  a  moment.  What  a  miraculous  escape 
Doris  had  had!  Suppose  she,  Norah,  had  not  heard 
the  telephone  conversation  and  Doris  had  gone  and 
Jimmie  had  run  into  her  there!  Didn't  Doris  know 
of  his  jealousy  when  she  had  been  so  hesitant  in  mak- 
ing her  engagement?  She  could  not  bear  to  think 
of  what  might  have  happened.  What  a  narrow 
escape  all  around! 

Jimmie  went  on  upstairs  and  in  a  few  minutes  he 
called  down:  "Where's  Doris?  Do  you  know?" 

"Why — isn't  she  in  her  room?"  Norah  sprang  to 
her  feet,  palpitant. 

"No — she's  evidently  gone  out.  Yes,"  he  called 
again,  "I  can  see  from  the  bathroom  window  the 
garage  is  open  and  the  car  is  gone." 

"But — but "  Norah  could  scarcely  believe 

what  she  heard.  "I've  been  sitting  here  some  time, 
and  I  left  Doris  in  her  room — I  should  have  seen 
her  go  out." 

"S'pose  she  went  down  the  back  stairs  and  out  to 
the  garage  for  the  car.  I'll  have  to  'phone  one  of 
the  boys  to  take  his  car." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  863 

The  room  spun  around  Norah  Rogers.  What 
should — could  she  do?  Reflection,  hurried,  showed 
only  one  thing.  She  must  reach  the  Cherry  Blossom 
Inn  ahead  of  Jimmie  and  warn  Doris.  But  she  was 
afraid  Doris  would  not  pay  any  attention  to  a  tele- 
phone message.  She  must  go  herself.  That  was  the 
only  way.  She  rushed  upstairs  for  her  hat  and  wrap. 

"Where  are  you  hurrying  to,  Norah?"  Jimmie 
called  out  from  the  bathroom  where  he  was  shaving. 

"Just  into  town  for  some  things,"  she  called  back 
hurriedly,  and  was  gone  before  he  could  question  her 
again. 

The  cottage  was  situated  about  four  blocks  from 
Hollywood  and  Norah  walked  as  fast  as  she  could, 
without  actually  running,  until  she  reached  the  taxi 
stand. 

"The  Cherry  Blossom  Inn — and  as  quickly  as  you 
can  make  it!"  she  directed  as  she  entered  the  cab. 

As  soon  as  they  turned  out  of  Hollywood 
Boulevard  and  off  the  main  road,  the  chauffeur  en- 
deavored to  obey  his  fare's  instructions  by  breaking 
speed  limits.  Norah,  usually  a  bit  timid  in  an  auto- 
mobile, did  not  notice  the  difference.  She  was  fully 
absorbed  with  her  thoughts.  How  had  Doris  ever 
managed  to  leave  the  house  unknown  to  her?  Could 
she  possibly  have  suspected  that  Norah  had  over- 
heard her  that  morning?  She  had  never  before 
gone  out  without  first  coming  in  to  say  good-by. 
Had  she  slipped  away  purposely  to  avoid  seeing 
Norah,  or  was  she  merely  so  excited  that  she  hadn't 
realized  what  she  was  doing?  The  wicked,  haunting 
thoughts  kept  chasing  themselves  through  Norah's 
head  until  the  cab  rolled  up  in  front  of  the  Inn. 

She  saw  them  the  moment  she  entered  the  inn. 


264  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

They  were  seated  at  a  table  near  the  wall.  Doris 
had  a  large  glass  of  lemonade  in  front  of  her,  and 
was  sipping  it  unconcernedly  through  a  straw.  Mr. 
Burnett  was  just  adding  some  of  the  contents  of  a 
hammered  silver  flask  to  his  glass  of  ginger  ale. 
Norah  rushed  up  to  their  table. 

"Why,  Norah !"  Doris  exclaimed,  as  surprised  as 
obviously  displeased  at  the  interruption.  "What  on 
earth  are  you  doing  here?" 

"I  must  speak  to  you  alone  at  once,  Doris!" 
Norah  was  visibly  agitated  as  she  made  her  request. 

"I  can't  imagine  how  you  knew  where  to  find  me!" 
Doris  rose  from  the  table.  "Will  you  excuse  me  a 
minute,  Mr.  Burnett?" 

"Certainly!  Certainly!  Don't  mind  me, — go 
right  ahead!"  He  vaguely  wondered  what  the 
trouble  might  be,  but  that  it  was  trouble  of  some 
kind  he  was  certain.  Mrs.  Rogers  was  so  excited 
she  hadn't  even  greeted  him.  But  he  never  imagined 
for  a  moment  that  whatever  it  was,  it  might  in  any 
remote  way  concern  him. 

The  room  was  all  but  empty.  Outside  of  Mr. 
Burnett  and  Doris,  there  was  a  young  couple  at  one 
of  the  tables  who  kept  putting  nickels  into  the  slot 
of  the  electric  piano  so  that  they  could  dance;  and 
two  middle-aged  women  over  in  a  corner,  vying  with 
each  other  to  see  who  could  tell  the  most  romantic 
story  about  the  days  when  each  could  have  had  any 
millionaire  in  the  country,  bar  none,  by  the  mere  snap 
of  a  finger. 

"What  in  the  world "  Doris  began,  when  she 

had  followed  Norah  to  the  back  of  the  room. 

"Doris,  you  must  leave  here  at  once!"  Norah  'de- 
manded. "Jimmie  is  on  his  way  out  here,  and  you 
know  what  would  happen  if  he  found  you." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  265 

"Jimmie!"  There  was  no  fright  in  Doris'  voice 
as  she  asked  the  question.  She  was  only  bewildered. 
"How  do  you  know?  Did  Jimmie  tell  you  I  was 
here?  Oh,  for  Heavens'  sake,  Norah,  tell  me  what 
it  is  all  about?" 

In  a  few  words  Norah  had  told  her  all  she  knew; 
how  she  had  inadvertently  listened  at  the  upstairs 
telephone;  of  Jimmie's  home-coming  to  tell  her  he 
was  going  to  the  Cherry  Blossom  Inn  on  a  job,  and 
then  of  her  flying  out  to  warn  her. 

Doris  stared  at  her  a  moment  when  she  had 
finished.  Then,  to  Norah's  overwhelming  surprise, 
she  burst  into  peals  of  laughter. 

"Oh,  Doris!  Doris,vclear!  Do  be  quiet.  Every- 
thing will  be  all  right."  Norah  attempted  to  pacify 
her,  thinking  the  girl  hysterical. 

"I — I'm  all  right  now,"  Doris  tried  to  control  her- 
self, "only  it's  all  too  funny — just  like  a  Harold 
Lloyd  comedy — but  I'm  afraid  Jimmie'll  be  furious, 
just  the  same." 

"I  fail  to  see  how  you  can  consider  a  thing  like  this 
funny,  Doris, — but  Jimmie  won't  have  a  chance  to 
be  furious.  If  he  should  come  in  before  we  get 
away,  I'll  tell  him  I  met  you  and  Mr.  Burnett  in 
Hollywood  and  that  Mr.  Burnett  asked  us  out  here." 

"Don't  worry  about  it!"  Doris  began  to  laugh 
again.  "Come  on, — we'll  get  Mr.  Burnett  and  start 
back."  She  glanced  at  her  watch.  "I  think  we  can 
make  it  before  Jimmie  arrives." 

"That  would  be  fine!"  Norah  answered,  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  as  she  followed  Doris  down  the 
room  toward  the  table  they  had  left.  But  she  held 
her  back  long  enough  to  add:  "And,  Doris, — I  want 
to  have  a  long  talk  with  you  when  we  reach  home." 

"All  right,  Norah.  I  may  have  a  few  things  to  tell 


266  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

you  myself.  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  let  you  in  on 
it, — the  joke's  too  good  to  keep."  Doris  was  in 
danger  of  another  explosion. 

"I'm  afraid,  Mr.  Burnett,  that  we'll  have  to  go 
back,"  Doris  explained  as  they  reached  the  table. 
"Something  has  happened  at  home  requiring  my 
presence." 

"Nothing  serious,  I  hope?"  He  signaled  the 
waiter  for  his  check. 

"Oh,  no "  Doris  replied.  "Not  serious, — 

only  annoying — some — something  I'll  have  to 
straighten  out  myself." 

Doris  drove  home  with  Mr.  Burnett  sitting  beside 
her  and  Norah  in  the  back  seat  of  the  car.  She 
laughed  and  joked  all  the  way,  calling  back  to  Norah 
and  pointing  out  various  places  of  interest  as  they 
went  along. 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  Norah  thought,  as  she 
marveled  at  her  sister-in-law's  attitude.  "Either 
she's  acting  like  this  because  she's  on  the  verge  of 
hysteria,  or  else  she's  hardened  beyond  believing." 

They  dropped  Mr.  Burnett  off  at  the  Hollywood 
Hotel.  As  he  shook  hands  with  them,  Doris  said: 
"Oh,  Mr.  Burnett, — regarding  that  matter  I  was 
telling  you  about  when  Mrs.  Rogers  came  for  me. 
Will  you  please  make  up  your  mind  soon?" 

"I'll  do  my  best  to  let  you  know  by  to-morrow 
evening,  Doris,"  he  answered,  stooping  down  to  pat 
a  beautifully  marked  Boston  bull,  and  incidentally  to 
look  at  the  attractive  brunette  who  was  holding  his 
leash. 

Arriving  home,  Doris  drove  the  car  into  the 
garage  and  then  turned  to  Norah.  "Come  up  to 
my  room,  Norah,"  she  invited,  rather  acidly. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  «67 

Wonderingly,  Norah  followed  her  up  the  stairs. 
Such  calmness  astonished  her.  Doris  drew  up  two 
chairs,  indicating  one  for  Norah,  as  she  dropped  into 
the  other.  Through  the  plate  window,  they  could 
look  out  on  the  pretty  front  lawns  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  each  one  with  its  lovely  palm  in 
the  center.  It  was  nearly  six  o'clock,  and  the  sun,  a 
glorious  golden  ball,  was  slowly  sinking  behind  the 
hills.  This  was  usually  the  worst  part  of  the  day  for 
Norah, — outside  of  the  long  night, — this  hour  be- 
tween the  dusk  and  the  daylight.  Her  thoughts 
always  ran  in  two  directions  simultaneously, — to- 
ward husband  and  baby.  But  this  evening  she  was 
engrossed  with  other  things,  so  that  she  was  spared 
her  reverie. 

"Well,  Norah,  I  suppose  you  did  have  quite  a 
scare,  and  equally,  I  should  thank  you  for  your 
[effort,  for  undoubtedly  you  meant  well.  But  just  the 
same,  I  wish  you  hadn't  meddled,"  Doris  pouted,  in 
an  effort  to  hide  her  real  feelings  which  one  glance 
at  the  widened  pupils  of  her  eyes  showed  far  deeper 
resentment  than  might  be  expressed  by  a  mere  pout. 

"Meddled?"  Norah  repeated  the  word  amazedly. 
"Why,  Doris,  do  you  realize  what  might  have  hap- 
pened had  Jimmie  reached  there  ahead  of  me?  I 
heard  you  suggest  to  Mr.  Burnett  over  the  'phone 
how  you  knew  your  husband  to  be  jealous." 

"Norah,"  Doris  paused,  as  though  reluctant  to 
part  with  the  joke.  "Jimmie  knew  all  about  the 
whole  thing." 

"Jimmie — what?"  Norah  gasped.  "Jimmie — 
knew  this  thing!" 

It  could  not  be!  In  a  flash  there  once  more 
moved  before  her  the  dim  memory  of  that  theatrical 


«68  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

scene,  witnessed  so  long  ago.  She  hid  her  eyes  with 
her  hand  to  think.  Jimmie!  It  could  not, — could 
not  be ! 

Doris  was  unconcerned.  "Yes,"  she  nodded, 
"Jimmie  knew  all  about  it,  in  fact,  he  planned  it  all 
himself." 

"Doris,"  the  sister  asked  finally,  the  invisible  hand 
that  was  clutching  her  throat  easing  sufficiently  for 
her  to  speak,  "do  you  mean — Jimmie  knew — that 
you "  Norah's  incredulity  was  almost  childish. 

"Let  me  tell  you  about  it, — then  you'll  understand 
better.  You  seem  so  surprised!"  she  stopped  to 
comment.  The  nonchalance  of  the  girl,  her  own 
brother's  wife,  was  beyond  understanding.  And 
she  actually  seemed  to  be  assuming  a  superior 
attitude  toward  her,  Norah, — this  girl  who  un- 
affectedly told  this  horrible  thing. 

"I  am — surprised, — so  much  that  I  am  at  a  loss 
for  words,"  Norah  admitted.  "But  do  go  on, 
Doris, — tell  me  all  about  it!" 

"Well,"  Doris  inched  her  chair  nearer  Norah's 
for  a  confidence,  "when  Jimmie  found  out  that  Mr. 
Burnett  was  interviewing  so  many  girls  every  day, 
he  began  to  worry  for  fear  one  might  be  found  he 
would  prefer  to  me,  so  last  night  he  hit  upon  this 
idea.  I  was  to  ring  up  Mr.  Burnett  this  morning 
and  tell  him  I  wanted  to  talk  to  him.  Then  I  should 
propose  going  out  to  the  Cherry  Blossom  Inn. 
Well,  once  there  I  was  to  talk  the  thing  over, — all 
about  the  part  and  how  anxious  my  husband  was 
for  me  to  have  it  and  so  forth, — at  the  same  time  not 
failing  to  impress  upon  his  mind  that  my  husband 
was  terribly  jealous  of  me.  Well,  in  the  middle  of 


THE  LOSING  GAIN 

this  conversation  (we  had  timed  it  pretty  well, — so 
well  that  I  wasn't  half  through  talking  to  him  when 
you  came  in)  Jimmie  was  suddenly  to  appear,  very 
angry  and  indignant  at  finding  me  there.  Arc  you 
listening,  Norah?"  She  glanced  keenly  at  her  guest 
whose  eyes,  whose  Avhole  intent,  purpose,  seemed  on 
the  dying  sun  outside  the  window. 

"Yes,  go  on!"  Norah's  voice  was  husky;  her 
hands,  clasping  one  the  other  tightly,  lay  in  her  lap 
as  she  stared  steadily  out  of  the  window  at  two 
children  at  play  in  the  street,  without  knowing  at 
what  she  was  looking. 

"Of  course  I  was  to  pretend  to  be  dreadfully 
frightened,"  Doris  continued,  "and  Jimmie  was  to 
say  someone  had  told  him  they  had  seen  us  entering 
the  Inn  together  and  that  he  wasn't  going  to  be  made 
a  fool  of  and  all  that.  That  was  to  be  my  cue  to  say, 
'Why,  we  came  out  here  to  talk  over  the  part  in  Mr. 
Burnett's  picture  that  Mr.  Burnett's  going  to  give  to 
me,' — then  I  was  to  turn  to  him  and  say,  with  a  sort 
of  imploring  note  in  my  voice:  'Aren't  you,  Mr. 
Burnett?'  Of  course  there  wouldn't  be  anything 
left  for  Mr.  Burnett  to  say  but  'Yes,'  and  then 
Jimmie  would  have  apologized  for  his  hastiness  and 
all  that,  and  the  matter  would  have  been 

cinched "  She  paused,  only  to  spread  out  her 

hands  in  a  deploring  gesture.  "And  then,"  she 
grouched,  "then  in  you  came,  like  the  heroine  to  the 
rescue  and  knocked  the  whole  thing  in  the  head!" 

"If  it  all  weren't  so  terrible,  I  could  laugh!" 
There  was  an  unmistakable  note  of  sadness  in  Koran's 
voice.  "It's  so  much  like  the  ten-twenty-thirty 
melodramas  we  used  to  have  at  the  old  Central 


270  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

Theater  in  San  Francisco.  All  the  characters  arc 
there, — the  false  wife,  the  millionaire  lover,  and  the 
outraged  husband." 

"Why,  Norah,  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that 
light!"  Doris  laughed.  "But  you've  the  right  idea," 
as  a  new  note  came  into  her  careless  tones,  "I  can 
see  the  humor  of  it  as  well  as  you,  Norah."  She  was 
her  old  bantering  self  again.  "You've  a  vivid 
imagination.  You  should  try  your  hand  at  scenario 
writing.  But  I  can't  understand  what  you  mean 
about  it's  being  terrible?" 

"I'll  tell  you,  dear."  Norah  reached  over  and 
took  hold  of  the  girl-wife's  hands.  "After  all,  you're 
not  much  more  than  a  child,  and  to  think  that 
Jimmie,  your  husband,  who  should  be  the  one  to  love 
you  and  protect  you  from  every  harm  should  have 
been  the  very  one  to  expose  you  to  this  terrible 
danger,  to  help  you  trap  this  man,  of  whom  we  know 
nothing  at  all,  into  engaging  you  against  his  will !" 

"But  Jimmie  says  everyone  speaks  highly  of  him, 
and " 

"That  is  not  the  question,  dear,"  Norah  went  on 
slowly,  anxious  that  every  word  should  convey  its 
fullest  meaning.  "It  doesn't  make  the  least  differ- 
ence in  the  world  about  the  man, — it's  the  idea  I  am 
talking  about.  Your  husband, — encouraging  you  in 
trying  to  fascinate  this  man, — to  display  your 
charms,  as  in  the  days  of  old  when  a  price  was  set 
upon  a  woman's  beauty  and  she  was  sold  to  the 
highest  bidder.  And  then  to  plan  with  you  this 
disgustingly  cheap  affair  of  this  afternoon.  I'm 
ashamed,  Doris, — so  ashamed,  to  think  that  this 
man  is  my  brother!"  The  tears  that  fell  unbidden 
caught  Doris'  attention. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  271 

"Oh,  Norah,  please  don't  cry!"  The  girl  slipped 
to  the  floor  and  knelt  beside  her,  pillowing  her 
head  on  her  sister-in-law's  lap.  "Now  that  you've 
explained  it, — pictured  it  to  me  in  that  light,  I  feel  a 
great  deal  worse  than  you  do!" 

"I  can't  imagine  my  brother  doing  a  degrading 
thing  like  this."  Norah  gently  stroked  the  golden 
head  in  her  lap.  "He  was  always  such  a  clean, 
honorable  boy." 

"Oh,  but  you  must  make  some  allowance  for 
him,"  his  wife  defended.  "He's  so  discouraged  with 
it  all!  He's  making  plenty  of  money  as  an 
electrician,  but  he's  so  ambitious  for  me.  It's — 
it's  all  my  fault!"  Doris  wailed. 

"Doris,  I'm  going  to  say  something  to  you  that 
may  hurt  you,  dear,  but  I'm  saying  it  for  your  own 
good.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  as  I  would  to  my  own 
sister,  Susy." 

"Say — anything  you  please,  Norah;  I  know  you're 
sincere." 

"Well,  then,  Doris,  I've  watched  you  pretty 
closely  since  I've  been  here, — at  home  and  at  the 
studio.  And  while  you  have  the  looks,  I  don't  be- 
lieve you  have  any  great  amount  of  ability." 

"I  don't  believe  I  have,  either,"  Doris  answered 
truthfully.  "I've  just  been  a  frivolous,  vain  little 
idiot." 

"Why  don't  you  give  it  up,  dear?"  Norah  waited 
anxiously  for  the  answer. 

"I  couldn't  do  that.  Jimmie's  such  a  pessimist 
about  everything  I  just  couldn't  let  him  lose  faith  in 
me." 

"But  suppose  he  could  be  brought  to  see  things 


872  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

differently,  and  wanted  you  to  give  it  up, — what 
then?" 

"I — I  suppose  I  would.  But  I've  had  great 
ambitions  for  a  career, — and  I  always  wanted  to  be 
independent." 

"Didn't  you  tell  me,  only  the  other  day,  Doris, 
when  I  said  something  about  not  wanting  to  be  de- 
pendent, that  you  thought  any  woman  who  had  a 
husband  to  care  for  her  was  indeed  fortunate? 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I'm  beginning  to  think 
that  the  really  independent  woman  is  the  one  who 
has  the  loving  protection  of  her  husband's  name  and 
arms." 

"Oh,  Norah!     Do  you  really  mean  that?" 

"Yes, — I'm  afraid  I  do.  I've  had  time  to  think 
a  good  deal,  to  notice  a  great  many  things  down 
here,  and  I've  about  come  to  the  conclusion,  Doris, 
that  life  is  very  empty  when  we  close  the  door  in 
the  face  of  love." 

"You're  wonderful,  Norah!"  Doris  exclaimed 
heartily.  "I  only  wish  we  might  have  met  years  ago ; 
things  would  have  looked  differently  to  me." 

"I'm  very  glad  we  didn't  meet  then."  Norah 
was  candid.  "I  had  an  outlook  on  life  that  would 
have  done  you  a  great  deal  more  harm  than  good." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

NORAH  and  Doris  sat  talking  until  Annie 
announced  that  dinner  was  ready,  and  as  they 
walked  down  stairs,  arm  in  arm,  Jimmic 
rushed  in.  It  did  not  need  a  second  glance  to  see 
that  he  was  in  anything  but  a  pleasant  frame  of  mind. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Doris?"  he  shouted. 
"Why  didn't  you  keep  that  appointment?" 

Norah  motioned  to  Doris  to  keep  silent.  She 
went  to  her  brother  and  placed  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Come  into  the  breakfast  room  with  me  for  a 
minute,  Jimmie,"  she  asked.  "I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

Doris  went  ahead  to  the  kitchen  door.  "Annie," 
she  called,  "we  will  be  ready  for  dinner  in  about 
fifteen  minutes.  Please  see  that  everything  is  kept 
warm." 

"Can't  whatever  you  have  to  say  wait  until  after 
dinner,  Norah?  I'm  hungry  as  a  bear!"  Jimmic 
growled.  The  same  old  thing  he  had  always  said 
when  he  came  home  to  dinner  in  the  Mission  days, 
and  later  in  Pine  Street.  Sort  of  a  good  omen, 
Norah  thought,  as  she  coaxed  him  into  the  break- 
fast room  where  she  was  going  to  try  to  make  the 
man  he  was  to-day  look  back  upon  the  boy  he  was  in 
those  days. 

"But, — Norah!"  He  hung  his  head  after  she 
had  finished  telling  him  just  what  she  thought  about 
the  whole  affair.  "I  hadn't  a  wrong  thought  in  my 

273 


874  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

head,  I'm  telling  you !  I  was  just  trying  to  put  over 
a  clever  deal." 

"Your  own  wife,  Jimmie,"  she  said  solemnly. 
"The  girl  who  will  some  day  be  the  mother  of  your 
children.  How  do  you  suppose  mama  would  feel  if 
she  knew  this  about  her  boy?" 

"Oh,  Norah, — don't!"  he  choked.  "I  suppose  I 
must  have  been  crazy  or  something  to  have  worked 
out  a  thing  like  that." 

"Jimmie,  how  would  you  feel  about  Doris  giving 
up  her  work  and  staying  home, — just  to  look  after 
your  comfort?" 

"How  would  I  feel?"  he  laughed.  "Better  ask 
her  how  she'd  feel.  You  know  how  determined  she 
is  upon  having  a  career." 

"Doris  only  wanted  a  career  because  she  thought 
it  would  please  you." 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"She  did,  Jimmie.  She  would  much  rather  have 
you  take  all  the  responsibility  of  the  home  upon  your 
own  shoulders." 

"Do  you  mean  it,  Norah?"  he  asked  gleefully. 
"Nothing  would  give  me  greater  joy!  It  would  be 
an  incentive, — something  to  rekindle  my  ambitions 
and  make  me  work  harder  than  ever." 

"Well,  it's  true,  dear."  Norah  reached  up  and 
kissed  him.  "Go  to  her  and  ask  her  yourself." 

When  Norah  passed  through  the  hall  into  the 
dining  room  a  minute  later,  she  saw  Jimmie  stand- 
ing in  front  of  the  fireplace  in  the  living  room  with 
Doris  held  close  in  his  arms.  She  murmured  a 
little  prayer  of  thanksgiving  that  these  two  had 
found  themselves,  and  that  she  had  been  able  to 
help  them  in  a  small  way  to  happiness,  even  though 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  275 

she  had  failed  so  miserably  in  the  attainment  of  it 
for  herself. 

After  dinner  they  went  down  to  Hollywood  to 
see  a  picture.  It  did  Norah's  heart  good  to  see  how 
Jimmie  and  Doris  sat  hand  in  hand  all  through  it. 
In  one  of  the  love  scenes,  she  saw  his  arm  steal 
about  his  wife's  waist,  as  she  snuggled  closer  to  him. 

When  they  reached  home,  a  message  awaited 
Doris.  She  was  to  please  call  Mr.  Burnett  at  the 
Hollywood  Hotel  at  once. 

"Certainly — call  him."  Jimmie  answered  her  in- 
quiring look.  "You  know  none  of  this  is  his  fault, 
and  we  must  at  least  be  courteous." 

"You  wanted  me  to\  call  you,  Mr.  Burnett?" 
Doris  asked,  as  soon  as  the  connection  was  made. 

"Oh,  yes,  Doris !  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
decided  to  give  you  the  part, — and  if  you  will 
arrange  to  have  me  call  to-morrow  when  your  hus- 
band is  home  (as  I  want  him  to  go  over  the  con- 
tracts with  me),  I'll  be  prepared  to  close  the  deal." 

Just  for  a  moment  her  heart  thumped  joyously. 
It  had  come  at  last, — the  thing  she  had  always 
prayed  for  and  waited  for,  and  now,  after  all  these 
years, — it  was  just  a  few  hours  too  late !  She  closed 
her  eyes  for  an  instant  to  see  a  theater  with  a  throng 
of  people  in  front,  clamoring  for  admittance.  In 
electric  lights  a  sign  running  on  all  sides  read: 
"Doris  Webster."  She  could  not  see  the  rest  for 
the  mind  blur.  She  saw,  too,  in  that  lightning  flash, 
the  lobby  filled  with  her  photographs,  reporters 
begging  for  interviews,  everyone  pointing  her  out  as 
she  went  down  the  street; — "That  is  the  popular 
movie  star,  Doris  Webster."  And  then  the  scene 
shifted.  She  was  sitting  in  the  little  rocker  in  her 


27C  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

bedroom;  Jimmie  was  bending  over  her,  his  eyes 
filled  with  tenderness  and  love,  while  he  smiled  down 
upon  their — first  born! 

"Mr.  Burnett!"  Her  voice  was  firm  as  she 
answered.  She  had  traveled  through  many  scenes 
in  a  short  time,  and  yet  there  was  no  noticeable  de- 
lay in  her  answer.  "I've  changed  my  mind  about  the 
part;  I  don't  believe  I  want  it." 

"You — you  what?"  Burnett  exploded.  "After 
all  you  said  to  me  this  afternoon!  Are  you 
scheming  to  hold  me  up  for  more  money  before 
you've  even  seen  the  contract?" 

"No,  I  assure,  Mr.  Burnett,  it's  not  that,  only — 
only — I — I — I'll  let  my  husband  talk  to  you."  She 
handed  the  receiver  to  Jimmie  who  had  indicated  he 
wanted  it. 

"I'm  sorry  about  this,  Mr.  Burnett,"  Jimmie  went 
straight  to  the  point,  "but  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
take  care  of  my  wife  myself  after  this,  and  not  allow 
her  to  work  any  more.  Yes,  we  really  mean  it — 
sorry — good-by."  He  hung  up  the  receiver  with  a 
bang  to  turn  and  take  his  wife  once  more  in  his 
arms. 

A  few  mornings  later  Norah  announced  at  the 
breakfast  table  that  she  was  leaving  for  home  the 
end  of  the  week. 

"Why,  Norah!"  Doris  exclaimed.  "You've  only 
been  here  a  little  over  two  weeks !  We  thought  you 
would  surely  stay  until  your  husband  returns  from 
the  East." 

"Oh,  no,  dear,"  Norah  smiled,  "that  would  mean 
two,  possibly  three  months.  I  would  wear  out  my 
welcome.  I  will  have  been  here  three  weeks  Satur- 
day and  I  promised  Susan  to  spend  a  little  time  with 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  *77 

her,  and  then  I  want  to  visit  my  friend,  Dr.  Brad- 
bury. She  has  promised  to  let  me  help  her  in  some 
of  her  work,  and  I  am  looking  forward  to  it 
anxiously." 

"We're  going  to  miss  you,  Norah.  You've  done 
a  lot  for  us,"  Jimmie  said  gratefully. 

She  left  on  Saturday  night,  and  as  she  kissed 
Jimmie  and  Doris  good-by  at  the  station,  she  felt 
that  her  trip  had  been  well  worth  the  while.  When- 
ever she  would  hear  of  any  of  the  wild  days  and 
nights  in  Hollywood  after  this,  too,  there  was  one 
thing  she  knew  she  would  do.  She  would  look 
around  for  the  nearest  salt  cellar.  It  would  be 
needed.  She  would  only  have  to  think  of  Renee 
Nelson,  Rita  George,  Edith  Lester  and  a  few  others, 
and  the  knowledge  she  had  of  their  lives  would  blot 
out  any  doubt  that  might  arise  about  others. 

In  San  Francisco  the  next  morning,  she  rang  up 
Frances  first  for  news  of  the  baby;  then  she  tele- 
phoned Dr.  Bradbury  for  a  chat  with  her  before  tak- 
ing the  boat  for  Oakland  and  Susan's. 

"Tickled  to  death  to  see  you,  Norah!"  Exu- 
berant Susan  embraced  her.  "Now  don't  you  look 
at  this  house, — it's  topsy  turvy.  Mrs.  Ward  is  get- 
ting so  careless,  and  I  can't  be  expected  to  take  care 
of  a  house  and  attend  to  my  social  duties.  I  have 
a  woman  come  in  to  clean  besides,  and  with  my 
vacuum,  and "  Susan  rambled  on  as  usual. 

"I'll  try  to  help  you  while  I'm  here.  What  you 
need,  Susy,  dear,  is  a  little  system."  She  picked  up 
a  skate  from  the  top  of  the  piano  and  put  it  beside 
its  mate  in  the  corner  of  the  hall.  "That's  where 
all  your  trouble  lies." 

"All  right!"  laughed  Susan.     "Straighten  all  you 


278  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

please !  If  you  can  do  anything  with  this  place  you 
won't  offend  me  any.  I've  given  you  the  boys'  room 
and  they  will  sleep  in  here  on  the  davenport." 

"It  seems  a  pity  to  deprive  them  of  their  room. 
I  would  just  as  soon  use  the  davenport,"  Norah 
offered. 

"Nothing  doing!  You'll  have  a  room,"  Susan 
emphasized.  "Tell  me  all  about  Jimmie  and  Doris, 
— I'm  just  dying  to  hear.  And  what  do  you  hear 
from  Norman?  When  is  he  coming  home?  What 
do  you  suppose  he  will  bring  you  from  New  York?" 

"Susy!  Susy!  One  question  at  a  time,  please! 
You  fairly  take  my  breath  away,  firing  them  at  me 
like  that!"  Norah's  hearty  laugh  rang  out.  One 
could  never  be  depressed  around  Susan. 

Two  days  after  Norah's  arrival  at  the  bungalow, 
she  threw  up  her  hand  in  despair.  Never  in  her 
wildest  moments  could  she  have  imagined  a  family 
living  in  the  midst  of  such  chaos,  and  apparently 
happy  and  contented. 

Nothing  was  ever  ready  on  time,  or  served  in  the 
proper  place.  Susan  breakfasted  in  bed,  the  boys 
in  the  kitchen  nook  when  they  didn't  carry  their 
food  to  the  back  porch,  and  Jack  from  the  end  of 
the  buffet  in  the  dining  room,  where  he  always 
snatched  it  on  the  run  as  it  was  always  from  a 
half  to  three  quarters  of  an  hour  late.  Dinner  was 
supposed  to  be  served  at  six,  and  yet  they  never  sat 
down  till  seven.  Something  was  always  forgotten. 
Either  they  finished  the  roast  and  then  someone 
remembered  they  had  forgotten  to  bring  on  the  po- 
tatoes, or  after  the  dessert  had  been  served  Mrs. 
Ward  would  rush  in  with  a  dish  of  spaghetti,  or  a 
bowl  of  green  peas.  It  wasn't  the  meals  alone  that 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  279 

were  operated  in  this  careless  way.  So  was  every- 
thing else.  None  of  the  family  ever  knew  where 
their  clothes  were.  Susan  had  partially  emptied  the 
boys'  closet  for  Norah,  and  yet  everyone  from  Jack 
to  Mrs.  Ward  hung  their  belongings  in  it,  or  else 
searched  wildly  there  for  some  article  belonging  to 
them  that  would  finally  be  discovered  in  some  un- 
heard-of place. 

But  nothing  compared  with  the  manner  in  which 
they  conducted  the  financial  end  of  the  home.  Jack 
gave  nearly  every  dollar  of  his  earnings  to  Susan, 
and  she  was  supposed  to  pay  all  the  bills  and  run 
everything.  But  every  day  collectors  called,  as  there 
was  always  a  payment  dUe  on  some  article  or  other. 
Then  Susan  would  declare  there  must  be  some  mis- 
take. She  was  sure  the  payment  on  whatever  it 
happened  to  be  could  not  possibly  be  due  yet.  Why, 
she  was  certain  she  had  paid  it  only  the  other  day, 

— and  so  on Then  would  commence  the  wild 

scramble  all  over  the  place  in  a  hunt  for  the  last 
receipt,  and  when  it  was  found,  it  always  proved  the 
collector  right.  Susan  would  apologize  profusely, 
and  talk  about  the  way  time  flew,  and  she  could 
have  sworn  she  paid  it  only  a  few  days  ago,  and 
wind  up  by  postponing  payment  for  a  week,  or  else 
pay  one  and  stand  off  others. 

"I  should  think  you'd  go  insane,  Susy,"  Norah 
declared,  after  she  had  witnessed  some  of  her 
sister's  transactions,  "trying  to  manage  your  home 
in  this  fashion.  Why  don't  you  figure  out  just  how 
much  you  can  afford  to  spend  and  then  arrange  your 
affairs  accordingly?" 

"If  you  think  running  a  home  and  trying  to  stretch 
your  money  in  all  directions,  especially  when  you 


880  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

haven't  nearly  as  many  dollars  as  you  have  places  to 
put  them,  is  an  easy  job, — well,  you  just  try  it, 
Norah, — that's  all."  Susan  sighed. 

"It  wouldn't  be  nearly  as  hard  if  you  used  a  little 
judgment  and  got  things  down  to  a  working  basis," 
Norah  advised.  "As  it  is,  everything  is  in  such  a 
state  of  confusion  you  can't  possibly  do  things 
right." 

"It's  all  well  and  good  for  you  to  talk,  Norah, 
when  you  have  a  husband  who  takes  every  bit  of 
worry  off  your  hands  by  paying  all  the  bills,  giving 
you  plenty  of  spending  money  and  all  that.  It's 
not  a  woman's  place  to  shoulder  all  the  responsi- 
bilities like  this,  anyway!  And  I'm  sick  and  tired 
of  it!" 

Susan  threw  herself  down  on  the  bed  in  a  fit  of 
temper  and  began  to  cry. 

"Susy,  dear!"  Norah's  arms  were  about  her, 
sympathetic,  keenly  conscious.  "This  isn't  anything 
to  cry  over.  Why,  I  thought  it  was  wonderful, — 
the  way  Jack  put  everything  in  your  hands." 

"Wonderful  for  Jack, — yes!"  Susan  sat  up  and 
dried  her  eyes.  "All  he  does  is  to  keep  enough 
money  for  his  personal  needs,  and  then  hands  me 
the  rest  to  worry  along  on,  and  put  up  a  bold  front. 
I  tell  you  one  thing,  Norah,  you  don't  find  many 
wonderful,  unselfish  husbands  like  yours  in  the 
world!" 

The  words  kept  ringing  in  Norah's  ears  all  that 
day  and  through  the  hours  of  the  night  as  she  lay 
wide  awake,  in  Robert  and  Junior's  little  white  bed, 
long  after  everyone  else  was  sound  asleep. 

"You  don't  find  many  wonderful  and  unselfish  hus- 
bands like  yours  in  the  world!" 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  881 

During  the  afternoon  a  letter  had  been  forwarded 
her  from  Hollywood, — a  letter  from  Norman,  one 
of  his  usual  interesting  kind,  with  page  after  page 
describing  the  places  he  had  visited  and  the  things 
he  had  seen.  In  all  his  letters,  he  had  never  once 
mentioned  the  difficulty  that  had  arisen  between 
them.  He  wrote  exactly  as  if  nothing  had  ever 
happened, — as  if  she  were  visiting  relatives  and 
friends  while  he  was  East  attending  to  professional 
duties.  He  never  failed  to  mention  the  baby  two  or 
three  times  in  each  letter,  and  he  always  wound  up 
with:  "God  bless  you, — a  heart  full  of  love — from 
your  devoted  Husband." 

As  yet  she  had  not  ha^  a  chance  to  give  a  great 
deal  of  serious  thought  to  the  question  of  her  sepa- 
ration. In  Hollywood  she  had  been  so  busy  re-ad- 
justing the  lives  of  Jimmie  and  Doris  that  she  had 
had  little  time  to  think  about  herself,  and  since  arriv- 
ing at  Susan's  she  had  become  so  bewildered  with  all 
the  confusion  and  disorder  that  it  was  impossible  to 
give  much  profound  thought  to  any  one  subject. 

She  was  certain  of  one  thing,  however,  and  that 
was  that  the  more  she  came  in  contact  with  other 
women's  husbands,  the  more  she  saw  that  Norman 
Rogers  was  a  man  worthy  of  the  name  in  every  sense 
of  the  word.  That  his  views  of  life  had  not  co- 
incided with  her  own,  was  one  of  those  unfortunate, 
deplorable  things  for  which  no  one  in  particular  could 
be  blamed. 

It  was  becoming  the  usual  thing  for  Norah  to 
cry  herself  to  sleep  nights  and  awaken  in  the  mornings 
thoroughly  exasperated  with  herself  for  being  so 
foolish.  She  was  where  she  was  of  her  own  accord, 
she  reasoned.  She  could  still  have  been  in  her  home 


282  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

in  Burlingame  with  every  care  and  attention  lavished 
on  her  did  she  so  desire.  Now, — now  that  she 
had  broken  away  from  it  all,  and  would  soon  be- 
come the  Norah  of  old,  what  right  had  she  to  indulge 
in  crying  spells  and  heart-aches? 

Never  having  lived  with  Susan  before,  since  their 
young  womanhood,  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  have 
seen  where  her  little  sister  was  drifting.  This  con- 
tinual dickering  with  tradespeople  of  all  descriptions; 
this  standing  off  of  collectors;  and  scheming  how  to 
crawl  out  of  one's  obligations.  They  were  dangerous 
things  for  a  girl  like  Susan  to  encounter,  with  her 
free  and  easy  disposition.  They  were  making  her 
untruthful  and  dishonest,  leading  her  straight  to  de- 
struction. 

One  night,  after  Norah  had  decided  upon  a  course 
of  action  in  her  sister's  case,  Susan  proposed  that 
they  all  go  to  a  picture  show  in  the  neighborhood 
and  take  the  boys. 

"It's  a  dandy  picture,  Norah,  and  I'm  sure  you'll 
enjoy  it  because  Renee  Nelson  is  starring  in  it,  and 
after  all  you've  told  me  about  her,  she  must  seem 
like  a  real  friend  to  you." 

"Well,  you  all  go,"  Jack  yawned,  "I'm  going  to 
read  the  paper  and  go  to  bed  early.  I've  been  on 
the  go  since  eight  o'clock  this  morning,  and  I'm  so 
tired  I  couldn't  enjoy  even  Renee  Nelson." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  Susan  replied.  "We  can 
go  another  night;  it  doesn't  matter." 

"Oh,  mama, — mama!  You  promised!  You 
promised!"  Robert  danced  about  with  Junior  close 
behind  him. 

"Go  ahead,  Susy,"  Norah  spoke  up.     "Take  the 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  283 

boys  as  long  as  you've  promised  them.  I'll  stay  here 
and  talk  to  Jack." 

"But, — but  you  don't  have  to  stay  with  Jack. 
You'd  better  come  along  with  us,"  Susan  persisted. 

"Yes,  Aunt  Norah, — you  come  along  with  us,  and 
you  can  buy  us  ice  cream  cones,"  Robert  begged. 

"I'll  buy  you  ice  cream  cones,  anyway;  but 
I  want  to  stay  here  and  talk  to  daddy,"  Norah  in- 
sisted, as  she  went  into  her  room  for  some  money. 
Anxiously  as  she  had  been  waiting  for  an  opportu- 
nity to  talk  to  Jack  alone,  she  had  no  intention  now 
of  losing  it. 

"Just    as   you   wish."      Susan   buttoned   up    her 

'sweater,  while  Norah  handed  her  small  nephews  the 

desired  change.     "Only  I'll  bet  you'll  find  Jack  dull 

company.    He's  so  sleepy  he  can  hardly  keep  his  eyes 

open  now." 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

A^TER  Susan  and  the  boys  started  Howrf 
the  street,  Norah  drew  her  chair  up  to  the 
table  to  sit  opposite  Jack. 

"I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Jack."  She  went 
to  the  point  at  once.  "I've  had  my  mind  made  up 
for  some  days,  but  this  is  the  first  chance  I've  had 
to  be  alone  with  you." 

"My,  Norah,  this  sounds  interesting!"  Jack  laid 
down  his  paper.  "Mind  if  I  light  my  pipe?" 

"No,  go  right  ahead,  Jack."  She  hesitated  a 
moment  for  the  right  words.  She  did  not  want  to 
offend  her  happy-go-lucky  brother-in-law,  but  she 
knew  the  necessity  of  bringing  him  up  with  a  jolt  out 
of  his  easy  course.  "Do  you  think  you're  doing  the 
right  thing  by  Susy  by  letting  her  assume  all  the 
responsibilities  of  the  home?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Norah." 
Jack  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  "Susy's  a  great  little 
manager,  and  she  always  has  taken  full  charge  of 
things." 

"I  don't  think  Susy's  a  great  little  manager  at  all." 
Norah  was  candor  itself.  "In  fact,  I  don't  think  she 
could  be  much  worse  than  she  is." 

"That's  not  fair,  Norah !"  Jack  exclaimed,  ready 
to  defend  Susan.  "She  does  wonderfully  with  what 
she  has,  and  I,  for  one,  am  perfectly  satisfied  with 
the  way  she  does  it." 

284 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  285 

"Good  for  you,  Jack!"  Norah  beamed.  "If  you 
can  defend  her  like  that,  you  surely  must  love  her." 

"Love  her!  Why,  Norah,  did  you  doubt  it?  Of 
course  I  love  her, — always  have  loved  her!  Why, 
I'm  crazy  about  her!" 

"I  almost  doubted  it,"  was  the  truthful  answer, 
an  answer  that  caused  Jack  to  stare  in  surprise.  How 
on  earth  could  Norah  ever  have  gained  such  an  im- 
pression! What  had  he  done!  He  stirred  uneasily 
beneath  the  gaze  of  her  calm  eyes.  But  Norah  was 
going  on:  "It's  all  right  for  Susy  to  run  your  home 
and  raise  the  boys  properly,  but  when  it  comes  to 
dealing  with  all  kinds  of  bill  collectors  and  telling 
one  lie  after  another  in  order  to  keep  up  appearances 
before  a  lot  of  silly  women,  I  think  it's  your  duty  to 
take  a  hand  in  the  matter  and  protect  her  from 
losing  everything  in  the  end, — and  by  that,  Jack,  I 
don't  mean  any  of  these  material  things  you  are  con- 
stantly paying  for.  After  all,  you  know  the  material 
things  in  life  are  not  the  things  that  count!" 

"Well,  then,  just  what  do  you  mean?"  Jack  was 
plainly  puzzled. 

"I  mean  that  if  Susan  is  allowed  to  go  on  sub- 
sisting on  the  idea  that  life  is  made  up  of  deception 
and  schemes,  she  is  bound  to  lose  her  self-respect. 
The  only  reason  she  hasn't  lost  it  already  is  because 
she  has  always  been  such  an  optimist  and  has  lived 
in  hopes  of  your  putting  over  a  deal  of  some  kind 
that  would  put  an  end  to  all  her  maneuvering.  When 
a  woman  loses  her  self-respect,  Jack,  she's  apt  to  do 
most  anything;  unless  she  happens  to  be  exceptionally 
strong.  And  Susan  isn't, — that's  all." 

"What  would  you  advise  me  to  do  about  it, 
Norah?  I  confess  I'm  all  at  sea." 


2SC  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"How  much  money  do  you  earn,  Jack?" 

WI  earn  enough,"  he  growled.  "Never  less  than 
a  hundred  a  week  with  my  commissions;  but  it  just 
seems  to  go.  We're  always  in  debt." 

"I  thought  you  said  Susy  was  a  good  manager." 

"And  I  still  say  so,"  he  answered  loyally.  "It's 
my  fault, — not  hers.  I'm  always  trying  to  keep  up 
with  someone  else  like  our  general  manager  who 
makes  double  what  I  do.  The  cash  we  have  goes 
for  entertaining  and  theater  parties,  and  different 
things — always  have  to  hold  up  my  end,  you  know. 
Then  when  it  comes  to  paying  off  on  the  bungalow 
or  the  furniture,  or  the  many  other  little  odds  and 
ends,  why,  we  never  get  straightened  out." 

"That's  because  you  leave  it  all  to  Susy.  She's 
only  a  woman  who's  never  had  any  experience  in 
figuring  things  out.  If  you  took  hold  yourself  and 
displayed  half  the  interest  in  your  home  that  you  do 
in  your  business,  you  would  soon  have  things  running 
smoothly." 

"I  wonder  how  Susy  would  feel  about  that?  You 
know  she  has  always  been  used  to  having  things  her 
own  way." 

"I  think  Susy  would  be  delighted,  Jack.  I  believe 
she's  pretty  tired  of  being  the  head  of  the  house." 
Norah  smiled. 

"My,  but  marriage  has  surely  changed  your  views 
a  lot,  Norah !  I  remember  when  you  used  to  think 
women  should  do  everything!"  He,  too,  laughed. 
"I  suppose  you've  come  to  see  matters  differently, 
now  that  you  have  a  husband  who  does  everything 
for  you  and  relieves  you  of  every  care?  Is  that  it?" 

"Yes,  Jack,  I  suppose  it  is."  There  was  a  dreamy 
look  in  her  eyes. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  987 

"Very  well.  I'll  see  what  can  be  done,"  Jack 
agreed. 

"And  I'll  help  you  all  I  can,"  Norah  responded 
heartily. 

The  next  morning  Norah  helped  Susan  hunt  up 
every  bill  she  owed,  together  with  what  receipts  she 
had.  After  a  couple  of  hours'  work,  the  most  of 
which  was  spent  in  rounding  up  the  slips  of  paper, 
Norah  took  a  pencil  and  figured  out  exactly  how  they 
stood.  Outside  of  the  bungalow  and  the  piano,  the 
debts  did  not  amount  to  so  much.  It  was  only  that 
there  happened  to  be  such  a  quantity  of  them, — a 
dollar  a  week  due  on  this,  and  a  dollar  a  week  due 
on  that.  Norah  kept  putting  them  all  down.  When 
they  were  summed  up,  she  turned  to  Susan: 

"Susy,  I'm  going  to  pay  all  these  little  nagging 
debts  for  you,  with  the  exception  of  the  bungalow 
and  the  piano.  Then  I  want  you  to  promise  me 
you'll  start  all  over  again,  and  let  Jack  take  charge 
of  the  financing  of  your  home." 

"Oh,  Norah,  this  is  wonderful  of  you!  How  can 
I  ever  thank  you  and  Norman?"  Susan  kissed  her 
gratefully,  but  the  shining  mist  in  her  eyes  told  more 
plainly  than  her  kiss  how  deep  was  her  gratitude, 
her  relief.  Only  too  willing  was  she  to  start  all  over 
with  a  clean  slate,  to  take  the  advice  of  this  sister 
who  had  proven  her  fitness  to  advise  so  much  better 
than  she  ever  could. 

"Norman  has  nothing  to  do  with  this,  Susy.  I'm 
using  my  own  money, — money  I  had  in  the  bank  when 
I  married." 

"Oh,  I  see!  And  you  don't  need  it  now  that  you 
have  Norman  to  take  care  of  you?" 

"No, — I  don't  need  it."    Norah  evaded  answering 


288  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

her  question.  "I  talked  everything  over  with  Jack 
last  night  while  you  were  at  the  show,  and  after  this, 
he  will  pay  the  bills.  Outside  of  your  living  expenses, 
there  shouldn't  be  any  except  for  your  bungalow  and 
piano, — when  these  are  all  straightened  out,"  and  she 
held  up  the  pile  of  bills. 

Later,  she  had  a  long  talk  with  Susan  and  Mrs. 
Ward  and  showed  them  how  they  could  systematize 
their  daily  work  (after  all,  she  was  Evelyn  Grant's 
'daughter)  so  that  it  could  all  be  managed  easily  and 
well. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  when  she  left  she  felt 
that  once  again  she  had  accomplished  something 
worth  while.  She  had  stripped  herself  of  nearly 
every  dollar  she  had,  for  two  reasons.  First  was 
her  sincere  desire  to  aid  Susan  and  Jack;  next,  she 
wanted  to  force  herself  into  a  decision  regarding  her 
future  plans.  If  she  was  without  funds,  she  would 
either  be  compelled  to  secure  employment  or  be  ready 
to  go  back  to  Burlingame  when  Norman  returned. 
From  his  last  letter,  it  would  be  three  or  four  weeks 
before  he  would  be  ready  to  start  back.  She  would 
know  herself  positively  by  then.  There  were  times 
when  she  felt  that  she  could  not  remain  away  from 
the  baby  another  moment. 

She  must  fly  back  to  him,  whether  she  was  allowed 
the  freedom  of  the  nursery  or  not, — just  so  that  she 
could  see  him.  Then  she  reconsidered.  If  she  did 
that,  she  would  be  surrendering  for  all  time.  No,  it 
would  be  best  to  wait  until  Norman  returned,  and 
then  fully  decide  on  what  to  do.  In  the  meantime, 
she  telephoned  Frances  three  or  four  times  a  day  to 
console  herself. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  289 

From  Susan's  she  went  to  Dr.  Bradbury's  and  was 
received  with  open  arms. 

"My  dear  child!"  Sophie  Bradbury  welcomed  her 
heartily.  "I'm  so  happy  to  see  you!  I  can't  begin 
to  tell  you  how  pleased  I  am  you've  made  up  your 
mind  to  spend  a  few  weeks  with  me." 

"Dear  Dr.  Bradbury, — thank  you  so  much," 
Norah  said,  gratefully.  "It  is  wonderful  to  know  I 
am  so  welcome  here." 

"When  do  you  expect  Norman  back,  and  how  is 
that  lovely  baby?" 

"Norman  won't  be  back  for  another  three  weeks, 
at  least,  and  the  baby — is — quite  well."  Something 
in  Norah's  voice  caused  Sophie  Bradbury  to  turn 
from  her  self-appointed  task  of  helping  her  guest 
unpack,  to  eye  her  keenly.  But  no  professional  eyes 
were  needed  to  recognize  the  tears  in  Norah's  own. 

Deliberate,  retiring,  proud  as  she  was  at  most 
times,  it  was  characteristic  of  Norah  Rogers  that 
when  she  finally  did  open  her  heart,  the  feelings 
poured  out  in  a  rush.  There  were  no  restrictions; 
nothing  held  back.  And  now  that  sympathy  of  Dr. 
Bradbury's  that  she  sensed  so  keenly  opened  the 
pent-up  flood  gates.  She,  who  had  given  no  idea 
of  her  problem,  her  unhappiness,  to  her  own  brother 
and  sister,  had  found  what  she  craved, — a  confidante, 
and  she  wondered  herself,  even  in  the  telling,  why 
it  was  that  she  had  not  been  in  Sophie  Bradbury's 
home  an  hour  before  she  found  herself  in  her  arms, 
sobbing  out  the  whole  story  as  rapidly  as  she  could 
tell  it. 

"Come,  dear!"  Dr.  Bradbury  led  her  into  her 
private  office.  Gently  as  a  mother  might,  she  placed 
her  on  the  davenport  and  sat  down  beside  her.  "Cry 


290  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

as  much  as  you  please;  it  will  do  you  good.  Then 
you  can  tell  me  everything  that  has  happened.  You 
know  I'm  your  friend,  don't  you?" 

"Indeed  I  do,  Dr.  Bradbury."  Norah  tried  to 
control  her  tears.  "I  felt  you  were  from  the  moment 
I  met  you;  and  yet  I  came  here  with  my  mind  fully 
made  up  not  to  mention  any  of  this  to  you.  But 
when  you  asked  me  about  baby,  something  just  gave 
way  inside  of  me,  and  ycTUr  arms  looked  like  a  haven 
of  safety." 

"Poor  little  girl!"  Dr.  Bradbury  said  consolingly. 
"You  have  gone  through  a  great  deal,  and  so  has 
Norman." 

"Norman?" 

"Of  course!  You  know  he  loves  you  dearly,  so 
he  has  suffered  as  much  as  you." 

"Has  he  written  to  you,  Dr.  Bradbury?"  There 
was  a  note  of  suspicion  in  Norah's  voice. 

"Why,  no,  Norah — I  may  call  you  Norah?  Mrs. 
Rogers  is  entirely  too  formal,  considering  the  way 
I  feel  about  you." 

"Please, — do  call  me  Norah — it  would  make  me 
happy." 

"Well,  then,  Norah,"  Dr.  Bradbury  assured  her, 
"Norman  has  not  written  a  word.  When  I  received 
your  letter  from  Hollywood  telling  me  you  were 
coming  to  stay  with  me  after  you  had  visited  your 
sister  in  Piedmont,  I  rang  up  Frances,  and  all  she 
told  me  was  that  you  were  visiting  relatives  while 
Norman  was  East.  I  must  say,  though,  that  I  had 
my  suspicions  right  along  that  something  was 
wrong." 

"But, — why,  Dr.  Bradbury?"  Norah  was 
puzzled. 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  291 

"Because,  dear,  you're  not  the  sort  of  mother 
who  would  leave  her  baby  to  go  visiting, — without 
some  very  good  reason." 

"I  just  couldn't  remain  there  any  longer,"  Norah 
{Declared  slowly.  "I  felt  as  if  I  were  losing  my 
reason." 

"I've  known  for  a  long  time  that  you  were  not 
as  happy  as  you  should  be,  but  I  could  never  un- 
derstand why.  You  should  have  talked  it  over  with 
Norman,  and  started  again  on  a  new  foundation," 
Dr.  Bradbury  advised. 

"I  did  tell  Norman  how  I  felt, — I  told  you  about 
that,"  Norah  explained,  "but  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  remain  under  the  rpof  any  longer." 

"Was  it  on  account  of  Frances  being  there?"  Dr. 
Bradbury  asked  anxiously. 

"No,"  Norah  answered  in  all  truthfulness.  Never 
for  a  moment  had  she  thought  of  Frances  leaving. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  because  I  want 
you  always  to  remain  the  big  woman  I  took  you  to 
be.  And  then  you  know,"  Dr.  Bradbury  continued, 
"Frances  has  no  other  home.  She  is  a  fine  loyal 
woman,  and  I  know  that  in  whatever  she  did  she  was 
prompted  by  love." 

"Then  I  must  be  the  one  who  is  all  wrong.  Tell 
me,  Dr.  Bradbury,  what  is  the  matter  with  me?" 
Norah  demanded. 

"You're  not  all  wrong,  Norah,  but  you  are  just 
as  much  to  blame  for  all  this  as  Norman.  You  see 
I'm  being  quite  frank  with  you  because  I  want  to 
help  you." 

"I'll  welcome  your  frankness,  Doctor,  because  I'm 
anxious  to  know  my  faults." 

"Well,  dear,  to  begin  with,"  Dr.  Bradbury  petted 


292  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

her  hand  gently,  "I  think  you  have  allowed  a  stubborn 
pride  to  come  near  wrecking  your  life  if  it  hasn't 
done  so  already.  When  you  were  first  married  and 
these  various  things  occurred  to  make  you  unhappy, 
why  didn't  you  go  to  Norman  and  tell  him  exactly 
how  you  felt  instead  of  brooding  and  storing  each 
grievance  away  in  your  heart  and  mind  until  even  the 
most  trivial  thing  became  in  your  consciousness  a 
thing  of  gigantic  magnitude?" 

"Because  I  was  so  deeply  hurt.  I  couldn't  bear 
even  to  think  of  what  I  had  lost." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  dear.  Just  what  did  you 
lose?"  Dr.  Bradbury  inquired. 

"In  marrying  Norman  I  thought  I  had  lost  every- 
thing— my  freedom,  my  independence." 

"Freedom  and  independence!"  the  doctor  re- 
peated with  a  little  bitter  laugh.  "I  have  both,  my 
dear,  and  what  have  they  brought  me?  I'm  free  to 
go  all  day  and  come  home  at  night  to  a  lonely  house 
where  there  is  no  one  to  hold  out  a  hand  of  wel- 
come to  me.  I'm  independent;  yes,  perfectly  inde- 
pendent— as  far  as  money  goes — and  yet  I'm  a 
lonely  old  woman  going  through  life  with  nothing  in 
front  of  me  but  the  lonelier  days  to  come.  Why, 
Norah" — her  eyes  suddenly  filled  with  tears — "if 
I  had  my  life  to  live  over  again  I  would  gladly  give 
all  the  freedom  and  independence  the  world  could 
offer  me,  just  to  feel  a  baby's  arms  around  my  neck." 

"Oh,  Dr.  Bradbury,"  Norah  sobbed,  "if  I  had 
only  known  you  years  ago." 

"Come,  come!"  Dr.  Bradbury  dried  her  eyes. 
"I've  never  acted  like  this  before;  it's  not  like  me 
to  be  quite  so  sentimental.  But  I  don't  want  you 
to  make  the  fatal  mistake  in  your  life  that  I  made 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  293 

in  mine.  Some  day  I  shall  tell  you  about  it,  but  not 
now.  I'm  going  to  take  you  up  to  your  room  and 
later  you  shall  help  me  with  my  work.  It  will  do 
you  good  to  see  some  of  my  patients." 

"I  should  love  to  do  that,  Dr.  Bradbury,"  Norah 
enthused.  "I  will  be  free  for  three  weeks.  I  prom- 
ised Norman  I  would  not  look  for  a  position  until 
he  returned." 

"There  is  only  one  position  in  which  you  belong, 
Norah,"  Dr.  Bradbury  said  earnestly.  "I  can  only 
pray  that  you  may  realize  it  in  time." 

The  next  morning  Norah  accompanied  Dr.  Brad- 
bury when  she  paid  her  daily  visits  to  those  who 
could  not  afford  to  pay  for  medical  service  and  were 
unable  to  get  to  the  free  clinics.  It  did  not  take 
Norah  long  to  observe  how  Dr.  Bradbury  was 
adored,  nor  did  she  wonder  at  it.  Like  a  ray  of 
sunshine  she  entered  the  sickrooms,  bringing  messages 
of  cheer  and  comfort  to  many  a  poor  soul  whose 
mind  needed  healing  far  more  than  the  body. 

Every  afternoon  Dr.  Bradbury  kept  office  hours 
from  two  until  five  o'clock  in  the  front  and  back 
parlors  of  her  old-fashioned  home.  Norah,  wanting 
so  sorely  to  help  in  order  partially  to  ease  her  own 
hurt  heart  by  service,  made  it  a  habit  to  talk  to  the 
waiting  patients  in  the  front  parlor  while  Dr.  Brad- 
bury was  busy  in  the  back. 

Norah  learned  much  those  days.  She  was  given 
an  insight  into  a  phase  of  life  she  never  had  dreamed 
existed.  But  whether  from  the  frail  little  wife  who 
came  leading  her  invalid  husband  by  the  arm,  or 
the  husband  who  tenderly  helped  his  sick  wife  up 
the  stairs,  or  the  young  mother  with  the  feverish, 
fretful  baby  in  her  arms,  she  learned  the  big  lesson 


294  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

of  love,  for  that  was  the  predominating  motive  in 
the  lives  of  these  people  in  this  new  environment. 
Just  as  she  had  found  it  in  the  lives  of  the  famous 
people  in  Hollywood,  she  now  found  it  again  among 
the  sick  and  poor  of  the  city. 

"Let  me  hold  your  baby,"  she  asked  a  delicate, 
undernourished  woman  who  had  come  in  with  a 
screaming  infant  about  a  year  old  in  her  arms.  "You 
sit  down  and  rest  and  I'll  try  to  quiet  her." 

"It  ain't  a  her,  it's  a  him,"  the  woman  answered, 
a  little  pathetic  smile  twisting  the  corners  of  her 
mouth.  "He's  awful  sick,  Miss.  I  walked  the  floor 
with  him  all  night  and  he  cries  all  the  time.  I  think 
it's  his  ear." 

"Well,  Dr.  Bradbury  will  soon  have  him  well." 
Norah  began  rocking  the  baby.  He  was  a  lovely, 
chubby  little  thing,  but  his  face  was  flushed  as  he 
shook  his  head  from  side  to  side  and  continued  to 
cry  with  pain. 

"There,  there,  he  was  a  precious  baby.  There, 

there "  Norah  involuntarily  held  him  closer  as 

she  soothed  him.  Poor,  little  suffering  baby !  What 
if  her  baby  were  suffering  like  this?  She  closed  her 
eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  thought. 

"It's  terrible  to  have  him  sick,"  the  mother  went 
on.  "I'd  go  through  anything  myself,  just  to  save 
him  pain.  Seems  like  it  ain't  fair,  Miss.  First  I 
lost  his  father  and  now  to  have  him  like  this — I — I 
just  couldn't  stand  it  if  anything  happened  to  him. 

He's  all  I've  got "  And  her  frail  form  shook 

with  sobs. 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  do  this !"  Norah  crossed  over 
and  placed  a  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder.  "I'm  sure 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  «95 

your  baby  will  be  all  right  and  you'll  only  make  your- 
self ill." 

"Me?"  She  turned  almost  fiercely.  "What  do  I 
matter?  What  does  anything  matter  so  long  as  I 
have  my  baby?" 

The  words  sounded  to  Norah  like  an  echo  out  of 
the  past.  Those  were  her  very  own  words  once. 
Hadn't  she  said:  "What  does  anything  matter  so 
long  as  I  have  my  baby?"  And  yet  she  had  let  other 
things  matter. 

"Oh,  mama,  dear,"  she  whispered  as  she  walked 
up  and  down  with  the  baby,  "if  you  can  look  down 
upon  your  Norah,  help  her  to  do  what  is  right!" 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

"^  |  ^HERE  is  nothing  serious  the  matter  with 
;  your  baby,  Mrs.  Shultz,"  Dr.  Bradbury 

•*•  reported  to  the  young  mother  a  little  while 
later.  "I've  examined  him  thoroughly  and  he  has  a 
cold  that  has  settled  in  his  ear.  I'll  give  you  some 
medicine  for  internal  use  and  an  ointment,  to  apply 
externally." 

"Thank  you,  Doctor,"  Mrs.  Shultz  beamed  grate- 
fully. "I'm  so  glad  it  ain't  nothing  serious." 

"You're  the  one  who  is  really  in  need  of  attention," 
the  doctor  continued.  "I  want  you  to  take  the  tonic 
I  will  give  you,  faithfully.  Baby  will  require  a  lot 
of  care  for  a  day  or  so.  Don't  you  think  you  had 
better  leave  him  here  ?  I  have  a  splendid  nurse  who 
will  look  after  him." 

"I'll  do  it  myself,"  Norah  offered. 

"I've  always  took  care  of  him,  Doctor,  and  he 
ain't  never  been  sick  till  now,"  Mrs.  Shultz  ex- 
plained. "Don't  you  think  I  can  do  it  right?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Mrs.  Shultz;  I'm  not  complaining  of 
your  ability  to  care  for  your  baby;  I'm  just  won- 
dering if  you  will  be  able  to  stand  it.  You  are  so 
tired." 

"Don't  worry  about  me."  Mrs.  Shultz  held  the 
baby  closer.  "I  can  stand  anything  as  long  as  he's 
all  right." 

"Do  you  think  she  will  be  able  to  nurse  him?" 
Norah  turned  to  the  doctor  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Shultz 
had  gone.  "She  seems  so  frail." 

296 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  297 

"Never  fear!  She'll  stand  it,  Norah,  and  her 
strength  will  not  give  out."  The  doctor  looked  at 
Norah  steadily.  "Mother  love  will  sustain  her,  dear; 
nothing  can  interfere  with  that." 

Mrs.  Shultz's  case  was  but  one  instance  that  came 
to  Norah's  knowledge.  There  were  many  others — 
ignorant,  poverty-stricken  people  who  knew  or  cared 
very  little  about  freedom  and  independence  but  who 
exhibited  an  understanding  of  service  and  sacrifice 
that  caused  Norah  to  marvel.  Such  experiences 
could  not  help  but  have  their  effect  upon  her  and 
day  by  day  she  was  getting  more  like  the  old  Norah, 
the  sweet  tender  girl  of  long  ago. 

She  came  in  one  afternoon  after  a  down-town  trip 
to  attend  to  a  little  business  for  Dr.  Bradbury.  Her 
cheeks  were  glowing  with  excitement  and  the  doctor 
knew,  the  moment  she  looked  at  her,  that  something 
had  happened. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Bradbury!"  Norah  didn't  wait  even  to 
take  off  her  coat.  "I  met  Mr.  Thorne  on  the  street, 
just  as  I  was  coming  out  of  the  Butler  Building." 

"Mr.  Thorne?"  Dr.  Bradbury  was  puzzled  for 
a  moment.  "Oh,  yes;  that  was  your  employer.  I 
remember." 

"Yes,  I  was  in  his  office  almost  six  years.  He 
was  so  glad  to  see  me — and  wait  till  you  hear  what 
he  said.  His  daughter  Janice — an  only  child,  by 
the  way — is  to  be  married  next  month  to  a  New 
Yorker.  Mr.  Thorne  feels  that  he  does  not  want 
to  be  so  far  away  from  her,  so  he  intends  establishing 
his  main  office  in  New  York  and  going  there  with 
his  wife.  Are  you  interested?" 

"Why — why,  yes."  Dr.  Bradbury's  thoughts  were 
miles  ahead  of  Norah. 


298  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"He  will  still  maintain  a  branch  office  here  and 
he  said:  'if  you  were  still  Norah  Grant,  Mrs.  Rogers, 
I  should  put  you  in  charge  here  and  make  you  gen- 
eral manager  of  the  western  branch.'  ' 

"Oh,  Norah,  I  hope  you  didn't  tell  him " 

Dr.  Bradbury  began  anxiously. 

"No,  I  didn't  say  a  word.  Only  I've  been  think- 
ing all  the  way  home  that  it  looks  as  if  I  were 
destined  to  go  back.  Fate  seems  to  be  taking  a  hand 
in  my  affairs." 

"Norah,  one  quarter  of  your  problem  may  rest 
in  the  hands  of  fate,  the  balance  remains  in  yours. 
It's  entirely  up  to  you,  dear,  to  make  or  mar  your 
life.  How  do  you  feel  about — returning  to  Mr. 
Thorne?"  the  doctor  inquired  uneasily. 

"I  don't  know.  Oh,  Dr.  Bradbury,  I  am  badly 
in  need  of  advice.  Until  this  morning  I  felt  as  if 
I  must  return  to  my  home  and  gather  up  the  frag- 
ments of  happiness  once  again.  And  then  this  after- 
noon when  I  met  Mr.  Thorne,  I  began  to  think  that 
perhaps  after  all  I  was  different  from  most  women 
and  my  place  was  not  to  be  in  the  home." 

"You're  wrong,  Norah!"  Dr.  Bradbury  was  em- 
phatic. "Every  woman's  place  is  in  the  home;  it 
always  has  been  and  it  always  will  be  through  the 
life  of  the  world.  It  is  true  a  great  many  of  us 
wander  away  from  it,  some  through  circumstances, 
some  through  choice;  but  in  the  end  we  all  realize 
that  nothing  can  take  its  place.  I'm  talking  to  you 
as  if  you  were  my  own  daughter." 

"I  know  that,  Dr.  Bradbury,  and  please  don't 
think  me  ungrateful.  I  only  want  to  be  sure  of  my- 
self." 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  299 

Dr.  Bradbury  removed  Norah's  wraps  and  glanced 
in  to  see  that  there  was  no  one  in  the  waiting  room. 

"My  dear,"  she  said  slowly  and  with  a  hesitancy 
that  showed  the  thing  she  must  say  was  too  pain- 
ful to  be  uttered  without  an  effort,  "I  told  you  when 
you  first  came  here,  nearly  four  weeks  ago,  that  some 
day  I  should  tell  you  my  story.  I'm  going  to  do 
it  now  because  I  think  it  may  help  you  to  work  out 
your  own  salvation." 

She  walked  to  the  window  and  pulled  down  the 
shade.  Day  was  departing  and  already  the  electric 
light  posts  on  the  corner  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
block  showed  twinkling  lights  atop  them.  The  rays 
of  the  reading  lamp  on  the  table  threw  a  soft  glow  on 
the  two  women,  the  younger  eagerly  waiting,  the 
elder  seeking  for  the  word  with  which  to  begin. 

"Outside  of  old  Dr.  Rogers,  Norman's  father," 
she  started  at  last,  "I  don't  believe  there  is  another 
soul  in  California  who  knew  or  knows  I  ever  was 
married.  Not  even  Frances  or  Norman  know  it. 
For  thirty  years  I  have  kept  my  secret,  but  now, 
dear,  I  want  to  tell  it  to  you." 

"Dear  Dr.  Bradbury,  perhaps  you  had  rather  not 
speak  of  it.  Your  confidence  in  me  would  always  be 
held  sacred,  but " 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  tell  you,  Norah. 
And  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  your  loyalty." 
Dr.  Bradbury  smiled  confidently. 

"When  I  was  a  girl  of  eighteen  I  lived  with  my 
parents  in  Philadelphia.  My  sole  ambition  was  to 
be  a  doctor  of  medicine.  At  home  my  choice  of 
a  vocation  met  with  strenuous  objections  from  both 
my  mother  and  father.  I  was  an  only  child,  you 


300  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

see,  and  my  parents  were  well  fixed  and  had  other 
things  in  view  for  me.  For  a  woman  to  decide  upon 
the  practice  of  medicine  as  a  profession,  my  father 
declared,  was  indecent,  and  not  even  fit  for  a  modest 
girl  to  think  about.  He  was  adamant,  and  nothing 
I  tried  to  do  or  say  had  the  least  effect  upon  his 
narrow-minded  opinion.  Consequently  life  at  home 
was  not  any  too  pleasant  for  me  when  I  met  Dr. 
Breeze."  She  stopped  and  her  eyes  wandered  past 
Norah  out  into  the  past.  It  was  with  a  little  effort 
that  she  began  again.  "He  was  a  splendid  man,  quite 
a  few  years  my  senior  and  occupied  a  position  of  high 
standing  in  the  college  where  he  taught  materia 
medica.  Pretty  soon  I  discovered  he  was  in  love 
with  me  and  wanted  to  marry  me.  At  first  the 
idea  of  marriage  was  as  distasteful  to  me  as  it  had 
been  to  you.  What  would  become  of  my  great 
ambition,  my  career?  My  parents,  of  course,  were 
delighted.  My  marrying  would  put  an  end  to  all 
'my  foolishness,'  as  they  termed  it.  Realizing  that 
I  loved  Dr.  Breeze  and  anxious  to  escape  from  the 
continual  reproaches  at  home,  I  married  him.  Am 
I  boring  you,  dear?" 

"Oh,  no.  Please  go  on.  I'm  deeply  interested." 
"My  husband  loved  me  as  much  as  any  man  ever" 
loved  a  woman,"  she  continued,  "but  unlike  yours, 
Norah,  he  did  not  shower  me  with  care  and  atten- 
*tions.  Instead,  he  neglected  me,  not  through  choice 
but  through  necessity,  although  I  was  too  young  and 
hot  tempered  to  believe  it  at  the  time.  Out  of  a 
spirit  of  rebellion  or  wounded  pride — I  honestly 
don't  know  which — I  entered  into  a  whirl  of  social 
activities  thinking  there  to  find  a  surcease  for  the 
heartaches  and  disappointments  from  which  I  was 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  $01 

suffering.  You  must  remember,  Norah,  that  was 
many  years  ago,  and  I  was  considered  an  attractirc 
girl.  Yes" — she  half  smiled  at  the  reminiscence — 
"there  were  plenty  of  men — there  always  are — but 
I  always  went  places  with  my  friends,  rarely  with 
my  husband.  The  few  admirers,  to  whom  in  bursts 
of  confidence  I  hinted  of  my  unhappiness,  sympa- 
thized with  me  strongly. 

"How  could  any  man  neglect  such  a  woman  as  I? 
How  different  it  would  be  if  I  were  his  wife,  was 
what  each  insinuated.  How  foolish  I  was  to  go  on 
being  miserable  when  there  were  others  who  could 
make  me  happy.  These  were  a  few  of  the  things 
they  told  me.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  lost  my  head 
completely  and  imagined  that  I  was  the  most  attrac- 
tive and  sought  after  woman  in  Philadelphia?  At 
the  end  of  a  year  I  left  my  husband.  When  he 
tried  to  explain  to  me  that  it  was  business  alone 
that  made  him  neglect  me,  that  he  was  working  on 
a  new  explosive  that  he  hoped  would  make  him  so 
independent  that  he  could  devote  the  remainder  of 
his  life  to  me,  I  refused  to  listen  to  him.  I  didn't 
go  back  home;  first  of  all  I  could  never  have  stood 
the  restraint  of  my  father's  house  and  then  he  was 
so  furious  because  I  was  leaving  my  husband  that 
I  doubt  if  he  would  have  had  me.  I  went  to  live 
with  a  young  married  couple,  friends  of  mine,  and 
members  of  the  gay  little  circle  in  which  I  traveled. 
One  by  one  my  admirers  faded  out  of  the  picture." 

Dr.  Bradbury's  smile  was  real  now.  "That  may 
sound  like  slang,"  she  explained,  "but  just  the  same 
it  most  appropriately  fits  the  situation.  There  is 
something  that  I  would  like  to  broadcast  to  the 
world,  to  all  the  foolish  little  women  such  as  I  was 


302  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

in  those  days,  and  that  is  that  nearly  every  woman 
who  bears  her  husband's  name  and  has  the  protection 
of  his  home  can  always  find  men  to  admire  her  and 
to  declare  eternal  devotion.  But  let  that  same 
woman  be  free  and  in  a  position  where  she  has  the 

right  to  listen "  She  spread  her  palms  in  an 

expressive  gesture.  "It  will  not  take  long  to  discover 
the  depths  of  their  sincerity.  I  am  not  telling  you 
this,  Norah,  because  it  has  anything  in  particular  to 
do  with  my  story  or  yours.  Men  really  meant  very 
little  to  me — that  is,  the  real  me. 

"After  I  realized  that  I  had  of  my  own  accord 
left  the  only  man  I  could  ever  love,  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  from  then  on  nothing  but  a  career  would 
satisfy  me  and  though  my  husband  wrote  me  letter 
after  letter  pleading  with  me  to  return,  I  would  not 
listen,  nor  would  I  ever  consent  to  see  him  again. 
Not  because  I  didn't  love  him  or  want  him !  I  loved 
him  with  every  breath  I  drew  and  I  wanted  him 
every  minute  of  my  life — just  as  you  love  your  hus- 
band and  just  as  you  are  breaking  your  heart  in 
longing  for  him,  Norah  Rogers." 

Through  the  long  narrative  in  which  this  other 
woman  had  bared  her  life,  Norah  had  sat  tense, 
hardly  breathing  in  her  interest.  But  when  the  last 
dramatic  word  was  uttered,  sharply,  incisively,  with 
a  world  of  meaning  in  its  emphasis,  the  sob  that  had 
been  in  her  throat  broke  through  her  lips.  Im- 
pulsively she  dropped  on  her  knees  and  buried  her 
head  in  Sophie  Bradbury's  lap. 

"Just  because,"  Dr.  Bradbury  went  on,  as  though 
determined  to  spare  herself  no  whit,  while  she  gently 
stroked  Norah's  hair,  "because  I  allowed  my  pride 
and  stubbornness — a  stubbornness  inherited  in  all  its 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  303 

intensity  from  my  father — to  step  in  and  wreck  my 
whole  life!  My  husband  loved  me  as  yours  loves 
you.  I  had  my  choice  between  a  home  and  happi- 
ness or  a  career;  and  I  chose  the  career.  Norah, 
my  dear,  I'm  begging  you  not  to  do  the  same." 

"To  see  you  now,  dear  Dr.  Bradbury,"  Norah 
rose  and  put  her  arms  affectionately  around  her 
friend,  "no  one  could  dream  that  you  had  suffered 
so.  And  yet  I've  heard  it  said  that  in  order  really 
to  understand  and  sympathize  with  other  people's 
heartaches  one  must  suffer,  and  the  more  one  suffers 
the  more  one  understands." 

"I  do  understand  thoroughly  the  struggle  you  are 
going  through,  Norah,  aiid  I'm  sure  you  will  win  out 
in  the  end.  You've  one  more  enemy  to  conquer. 
You've  already  overcome  your  resentment  and  your 
ambition.  The  thing  for  you  now  to  do  is  to  con- 
quer your  vanity." 

"iMy  vanity?" 

"Yes,  Norah,  your  vanity  in  being  so  certain  that 
success  awaits  you  in  the  business  world.  There's 
a  great  deal  of  difference  between  a  business  career 
for  Norah  Grant  and  one  for  Norah  Rogers!" 

"In  what  way,  Dr.  Bradbury?" 

"Norah  Grant  can  sit  at  her  desk  with  nothing 
to  think  about  but  the  work  before  her,  while  Norah 
Rogers  would  sit  at  that  same  desk  trying  to  think 
of  the  same  work,  but  her  thoughts  would  be 
straying  miles  away  wondering  if  the  nurse  or  who- 
ever she  happened  to  have  left  with  her  baby 
had  fed  him  properly  or  was  surely  holding  his  hand 
at  the  street  crossing — all  the  things  that  only  a 
mother  can  think  of." 

"That's  true !  That's  true !    Sophie  Bradbury,  you 


304  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

have  the  most  wonderful  insight  in  the  world!" 
Norah  was  undecided  as  to  whether  she  should  laugh 
or  cry.  "I've  told  you  that  before,  but  this  evening 
you  have  convinced  me  of  it  more  than  ever!" 

The  hand  of  the  Almighty!  How  powerless 
we  are  to  stay  it.  Though  all  the  sunlight  may  de- 
part and  our  hearts  may  break,  as  one  by  one  our 
dear  ones  are  taken  from  us,  we  must  bow  our  heads 
and  whisper:  "God's  will  be  done — the  All  Knowing, 
All  Seeing,  All  Powerful  One."  We  may  ponder 
over  our  problems,  weighing  them,  trying  to  decide 
upon  the  best  solution;  when  His  hand  appears  we 
and  our  thoughts  are  swept  into  insignificance! 

The  next  evening  about  nine  o'clock  Norah  and 
Dr.  Bradbury  were  reading  when  the  telephone  bell 
rang. 

"I  suppose  old  Mrs.  Burleigh  is  worse."  Dr. 
Bradbury  went  into  her  office  to  answer  the  summons, 
closing  the  door  after  her. 

"Norah,  dear."  Dr.  Bradbury  was  standing  be- 
side her.  She  had  not  heard  her  re-enter  the  room. 
"I  want  you  to  be  brave.  I — " 

"What  is  it?"  Norah  gasped,  clutching  the  doc- 
tor's hand. 

"That  was  Frances  who  telephoned,  dear.  Baby 
is  ill." 

Norah  sat  as  if  turned  to  stone,  her  cheeks  deathly 
white. 

"He's — he's — not  dead?"  she  barely  whispered. 

"No,  no!"  Dr.  Bradbury  soothed  her  tenderly. 
"It  is  diphtheria  and  he  is  in  a  serious  condition. 
Frances  thought  it  best  for  me  to  tell  you  the  truth." 

"Why  wasn't  I  told  before?     When  did  he  first 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  305 

become  ill?"  Norah  cried  frantically  as  she  leaped  to 
her  feet. 

"Because  they  did  not  think  it  was  anything 
serious  until  to-night  when  Norman  returned  unex- 
pectedly. He  diagnosed  it  at  once  as  diphtheria." 

"Oh,  I  can't  bear  it!  I  can't  bear  it!"  Norah 
moaned.  "It's  all  my  fault.  I've  been  wicked  and 
this  is  my  punishment.  Oh,  God!"  She  slipped  to  her 
knees.  "Spare  my  baby;  please  spare  my  baby!" 

"Norah,  you  must  not  blame  yourself  for  this. 
Your  baby  has  had  the  best  of  care;  you  could  not 
have  prevented  it  even  had  you  been  there." 

"I  must  go  to  him  at  once,  Dr.  Bradbury.  Call  a 
taxi  for  me,  will  you?  \^.nd  ask  them  to  hurry!" 
Norah  rushed  to  her  room  for  her  coat. 

"I'll  ride  out  with  you,  dear,"  Dr.  Bradbury  told 
her  as  she  came  down  the  stairs. 

Never  as  long  as  she  lived  did  Norah  Rogers  for- 
get that  ride  down  the  peninsula.  She  huddled  in  a 
corner  of  the  cab  with  Dr.  Bradbury's  arms  pro- 
tectingly  around  her;  knowing  the  doctor  was  trying 
to  cheer  and  encourage  her  but  unable  to  comprehend 
a  word  of  what  she  was  saying.  All  she  could  do 
was  pray,  and  she  prayed  as  never  before.  All  the 
little  prayers  she  had  repeated  as  far  back  as  her 
childhood  came  to  her. 

Although  they  reached  their  destination  in  record- 
breaking  time,  it  seemed  to  Norah  they  had  been 
traveling  an  eternity.  As  Norah  ran  past  the  maid 
who  opened  the  door,  Norman,  Frances  and  Miss 
Reade  came  out  of  the  living  room  to  meet  her. 

"My  baby!  My  baby!"  she  begged.  "How  is 
he?" 


306  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Don't  worry,  Norah,  we'll  pull  him  through." 
It  was  Norman  who  spoke,  a  Norman  so  pale,  so 
haggard,  that  Norah  hardly  knew  him.  "I've  just 
come  down  for  a  minute  and  there  are  two  excellent 
nurses,  besides  Miss  Reade." 

"I — I'll  go  to  him  at  once!"  Norah  started  for 
the  stairs.  Frances  and  Miss  Reade  both  sprang 
forward. 

"There  is  nothing  you  can  do,  Norah,"  Frances 
spoke  timidly,  "both  nurses  are  with  baby  now  and 
Norman  said  when  he  came  down  that  he  was  rest- 
ing comfortably." 

"I  really  think,  Dr.  Rogers,  that  Mrs.  Rogers 
should  not  enter  the  sick  room,  at  least  not  to-night." 
Miss  Reade  spoke,  not  unkindly,  but  only  in  the 
capacity  of  the  strict  nurse. 

Norah's  hysterical  laugh  startled  them  all: 

"I'm  going  to  my  baby  now  and  I'm  going  to  re- 
main with  him  every  minute!"  She  fairly  shrieked 
the  words.  "There  isn't  anybody  in  the  world  who 
can  keep  me  from  him — do  you  understand  that? 
All  of  you?"  Her  hands  went  out  before  her  in  a 
sweeping  gesture.  "No  matter  what  you  think  or 
feel,  I  am  his  mother!"  She  turned  to  run  toward 
the  stairs  again. 

Miss  Reade  started  forward,  but  before  she  could 
say  a  word  Norman  waved  her  back. 

"She  is  right,"  he  said,  "perfectly  right.  Her 
place  is  by  his  side."  He  followed  her  up  the  stairs 
and  into  the  nursery. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Rogers,"  he  explained  to  the  two 
women  in  white,  one  watching  beside  the  bed,  the 
other  busy  with  the  chart. 

Norah  took  her  place  in  the  nursery  and  never 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  307 

left  it.  Day  and  night  she  watched  beside  the  little 
crib,  together  with  the  nurses  putting  up  a  valiant 
battle.  Occasionally  they  would  prevail  upon  her  to 
lie  on  the  couch  for  an  hour's  rest,  but  that  was  all. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  limit  to  her  strength — she 
never  tired.  It  was  a  battle  in  every  sense  of  the 
word;  a  battle  where  love  and  determination  (the 
determination  of  the  old  Norah  Grant  coming  to 
her  aid  just  when  she  needed  it)  were  the  weapons 
which  won  in  the  end. 

Norman  had  been  as  untiring  as  she,  and  together 
they  saved  their  baby. 

uThe  crisis  has  passed,  dear."  Norman  placed 
his  hand  tenderly  upon  her  head  one  morning  as  she 
knelt  beside  the  crib.  "H£  is  out  of  danger  now." 

"Thank  God!"  Over  and  over  came  the 
whispered  words  as  though  there  would  be  no  end  to 
her  paean. 

Two  weeks  later  Dr.  Rogers  came  into  the 
nursery  one  evening  to  find  his  wife  sitting  in  a  low 
rocker  humming  a  lullaby  to  the  drowsy  baby  in  her 
arms.  The  nurses  and  Miss  Reade  had  been  gone 
a  week.  At  last  she  was  in  full  possession  of  her 
treasure. 

"How  is  he?"  Norman  tip-toed  over. 

"Wonderful,"  she  answered  a  little  proudly. 
"He  gained  a  pound  this  week." 

"Really?  You  can't  improve  much  on  that."  He 
smiled.  "If  he's  sound  asleep,  dear,  would  you  put 
him  down  so  that  I  can  talk  to  you?" 

She  tucked  her  sleeping  son  snugly  in  his  crib  and 
resumed  her  seat. 

"Norah!"     He  pulled  his  chair  up  beside  her. 


308  THE  LOSING  GAIN 

"Frances  is  going  to  take  a  trip  to  Honolulu  with 
Mrs.  Gransville,  her  daughter  and  niece,  to  be  gone 
several  months,  and  I  am  anxious  to  know  what  you 
intend  to  do?" 

"Why — why — I'm  going  to  stay  here,  of  course, 
Norman,  to  take  care  of  baby — and  you.  And  I 
hope  Frances  will  come  back  to  us  when  she  returns 
from  Honolulu." 

"You — you  mean  you're  not  going  to  leave  me? 
You're  going  to  stay?"  His  incredulity  was  almost 
pathetic. 

"You  want  me  to  stay?  Don't  you,  dear?"  She 
spoke  the  words  breathlessly.  What  if  he  should 
not  want  her  now?  She  felt  the  clutching  at  her 
heart  as  the  breath  came  sharply.  What  if  her  mad- 
ness had  cost  her But  Norman  was  speaking, 

softly,  tenderly,  the  sweetest  words  her  life  had 
known. 

"Want  you?  Why,  darling,  I've  always  wanted 
you,  more  than  anything  in  the  world!  And  every- 
thing will  be  different.  I've  never  forgotten  the 
things  you  said  that  night — because  they  were  true. 
From  now  on  you  shall  have  everything  your  own 
way." 

"But  I  don't  want  everything  my  own  way."  She 
held  out  her  hands  impulsively,  surrendering,  and 
he  gathered  her  in  his  arms.  "I  want  your  love," 
she  whispered  chokingly,  "and  your  devotion  and 
your  attentions  and  all  the  things  I  didn't  want 
before." 

Norman  held  her  from  him  with  that  old  pet 
gesture  of  his. 

"But,  darling,  you  said  you  were  losing  your  inde- 
pendence and  your  freedom  and  your  right  to " 


THE  LOSING  GAIN  809 

"I  know  it,"  she  murmured.  Her  arms  tightened 
about  his  neck  as  she  pleaded  fervently.  "I'm  losing 
all  of  those — but  I'm  gaining  so  much!  So  after  all, 
dear,  it's  a  losing  gain." 

Over  in  his  little  crib  the  baby  smiled  in  his  sleep. 
Perhaps  the  angels  were  kissing  him — perhaps 


THE  END 


Tl  58  00682  0517 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  UBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000129115     2 


